In Death We Do Part
by runningthroughtheroses
Summary: Three months have passed since that fateful night at the Lost Woods Resort, and life is finally getting back on track. But when Mona is released from Welby, it becomes evident that A.D.'s game is far from over. New secrets and old are about to come to light...and this time, no one is safe. (AU, finale rewrite, and sequel, of sorts, to "Sister, Sister")
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Welcome to Welby State Psychiatric Hospital. How can I help you?"

 _Déjà vu,_ I think as I pull out my ID and slap it down on the marble countertop. The last time I stood in front of this desk, over five years ago, I never in a million years expected that I'd be back. I glance to my left, at the doorway leading into the room marked "Recreation." When I was seventeen years old, I walked through those doors and confronted the person who forced me to hurt people, who locked me underground for months, and who tried to kill me on my junior prom night.

Even being back here is nauseating. But I have to remind myself that I'm not here under the same circumstances this time. I'm here under much happier ones.

"Hi," I say, sliding my ID over to the receptionist. "My sister's being released today, I'm picking her up."

The receptionist plucks my license off of the table and holds it between her long, hot pink, obviously fake nails. She smiles and glances at me. "Viola, of course. I just have a few papers for you to sign and then you can head on back."

I grin down at the paperwork that she slides in front of me. _WELBY STATE PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL: GUARDIAN RELEASE CONTRACT._ Since my mom moved to New Hampshire a few months ago to take care of my ailing grandfather, I was granted temporary conservatorship when Mona was evaluated and sent to Welby three months ago. Even though she's being released today, I'll have guardianship for a few more months, or at least until she can prove to the doctors that she's capable of being a regular adult again.

I'm not so sure that will ever happen, but I'm trying to be positive.

I scan over the release forms and sign them eagerly. "Do you know where you're going?" the receptionist asks once I've handed them back to her.

"Yes," I reply, successfully keeping myself from scoffing. This place is basically my second home these days. I know the layout almost as well as I knew Radley's.

I barge into room two-fourteen to find my sister sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing the usual hospital gown and holding a small duffel bag. "I have real clothes!" I say in a sing-song, tossing a plastic bag containing a sweater and jeans onto the bed.

"This is really happening?" Mona asks, standing immediately. "You signed the release forms?"

"They're being authorized as we speak," I say cheerfully. "All you have to do is change and we're out of here."

"Thank God," she says, and throws her arms around me. I blink in surprise and raise my arms to hug her back. "Thank you."

I pull away, taken aback by the genuine sincerity in her tone. "You don't have to thank me, I'm your sister," I say, smiling awkwardly. "And right now I'm also basically your parent, so hurry up and change so we can leave."

As Mona exchanges the flimsy hospital gown for the clothes I brought, I grab the suitcase from the corner and wheel it over to the door. Then I turn back and gaze around the small, dismal room. The lobby and recreation rooms are so light and airy, with comfortable furniture and wide-open space. But back in here, with the bars in front of the window and the metal-framed bed, if I squint I swear this could be Radley.

My sister sets the neatly folded hospital gown on the bed and grabs the duffel bag, and we head back down the hallway toward the lobby. "Your room's all set up," I say, referring to the former guestroom of my new, two bedroom apartment. "You can decorate it however you want, though, I don't really care."

"Oh, that's the last thing on my mind right now," Mona says lightly, and we pause to let a nurse and a young red-haired woman with large, glassy eyes cross the hall in front of us. The girl is holding the nurse's arm with one hand and tapping a plastic walking stick in front of her with the other. The _click clack_ of the cane against the tile floor creates a strange echo effect.

Once they've passed I grab the suitcase handle again and keep walking, the front doors in view. I've only taken a few steps when I realize that I'm alone. Startled, I glance back and forth, then turn around. Mona is standing a few yards behind me, staring at the ground. Her face is ashen.

"Hey," I call, leaving the suitcase and retracing my steps. "What's wrong?"

She blinks and meets my eyes, looking kind of dazed. "Oh. Um, nothing, I guess I'm just still adjusting to this new dose of meds they put me on."

I raise my eyebrows. "Wait, they're still messing around with your meds? I thought – "

"It's nothing major," Mona says, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder and breezing past me. "Just trying to find the right balance. They'll be monitoring it during my appointments."

"Ah, yes," I reply, pushing through the front doors and out into the fresh air, "the appointments." Last week, during my previous visit, Mona gave me a list of all the appointments she has scheduled at Welby over the next few months. Therapy sessions, psychiatrist appointments, a few more tests…the calendar on my phone currently has more of her stuff on it than it does my own.

"Seriously, Vi, I feel bad that I'm going to be taking up such a big part of your life," my sister says as we load her bags into the trunk of my car. There's so much sincerity in her voice that it sounds almost false.

I wrinkle my nose at the exaggeration. "I'd hardly call telling you to get off your butt and get to your doctor's appointment a big part of my life." There's a long pause, and when I glance over, she's staring at me incredulously. "What?"

"I…I'm not allowed to drive, Viola," she says slowly, shaking her head. "At least not until they get my meds completely figured out. I thought I mentioned that."

She hadn't. I take a step back from the car and the trunk falls closed with a sharp bang that makes us both flinch. "So I'm, um…I'm going to be driving you to all of your appointments and everything?" My mind flashes back to the full schedule on my calendar. Welby is twenty minutes away from my apartment. Even thinking about it sends all of the energy rushing from my body.

"Look, I know it's a lot to ask," Mona says once we're in the car. "But right now you're kind of…the only person I have."

I close my eyes and drum my fingers against the steering wheel, trying to sort through a range of different emotions. "It's fine, of course it's fine," I say finally, exhaling. "We'll make it work."

 _Hopefully with a little help._

…

Three short knocks, that's all it takes. Three little raps on the door right in front of me. I shouldn't be so nervous about this, but my stomach has butterflies…or maybe wasps would be the more appropriate figure of speech.

 _Do it,_ I command myself sharply. Then I squeeze my eyes shut, reach out, and knock. I thankfully remember to open my eyes again before the door swings open.

I was fearing Caleb, but am relieved to see Hanna standing in front of me, even if the look on her face isn't particularly welcoming. "Um, Viola…hey."

"Hi," I reply, forcing a smile. "Do you mind if…can I come in for a second?"

"Yeah," Hanna says, looking taken aback. "Yeah, sure." She steps aside with obvious reluctance, and I walk into the loft, gazing around. It looks exactly the same as it did three months ago. I want to ask her if Lucas knows she's still living here, if he's still _paying_ for this place, but now probably isn't the best time.

Hanna shuts the door and turns to face me, crossing her arms. I open my mouth and suddenly blurt out, with no permission from my brain, "I saw you and Caleb the other day. Coming out of Lucky Leon's. I was across the street and, um…you guys looked really happy together. I was so glad."

She looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Thanks. But I know that's not what you came over here to tell me, so spill it."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I haven't spoken to Hanna in over two months. I have no idea where her mind is, how she's going to feel about this. "Mona was released from the hospital today," I announce in a rush.

Hanna's confused expression freezes, and the slight smirk she'd been giving me melts away. "I…I thought Dr. Sullivan said at least six months."

"Originally," I explain. "But last month she got kind of roughed up by some beast of a woman who used to be in a gang or something. And she was responding so well to the treatment by that point that the doctors agreed that outpatient care would be the best way to go."

She sits down on the edge of the orange sofa, resting her elbows on her knees. "She didn't tell me any of that," she mutters, staring straight ahead like I'm not even in the room.

I move forward cautiously, perplexed. "What? Who's 'she,' Mona? You've talked to her?" I wrack my brain, trying to think of a time when that could have happened.

Hanna looks back up at me. Her expression is defiant, but I can see the guilt in her eyes. "I've been visiting her," she says loudly. "Since the very beginning."

Once again I feel like I'm back in high school, learning that I was not the only person making frequent trips to Radley over the summer. My stomach hurts. I sink down onto the couch next to her. "Wait. No you haven't."

"Yeah, I have," Hanna insists, sounding kind of annoyed, even though she's the one dropping the bombshells, not me. "Practically every week. I asked Mona not to tell anyone, including you."

I flinch, wrinkling my nose. This doesn't make any sense. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"I didn't want it getting back to my friends, okay?" she bursts out, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "They don't care _why_ Mona killed Charlotte, just that she did. They think she's dangerous."

"They're idiots," I snap instinctively. She raises her eyebrows at me and I bite my lip. "Sorry. But I – I don't understand. They saw her break down at the Lost Woods, they know what happened the night Charlotte died. They know it was freaking self-defense! What's the deal?"

Hanna holds up her hands, getting up from the couch. "I don't know, okay? But trust me, it's better for everyone if they don't know that I've been visiting her." She looks me up and down. "So that's it?"

Disappointment twinges at my gut at her sharp words. Years ago, Hanna was like family. She slept over at my house and let me hang out and read fashion magazines and talk about boys even when my sister clearly wanted me to leave. She bought me (or, okay, maybe stole) a little pearl necklace for my fifteenth birthday. She was the only one of the girls that I really felt close to, like I was more than just a rarely trusted source of information.

But by the way she's looking at me now, like she could not be more uncomfortable having me in her apartment, it's obvious that all that history means nothing.

That should really make me rethink what I came here to ask, but for some reason it just makes me even more determined. I stand up, square my shoulders, and say, "No, that's not all. I actually have a…favor to ask you."

Hanna pauses, staring at me. "What is it?" she asks, clearly irritated.

Even though annoyance seems to be her normal state of emotion these days, it's hard not to take her attitude personally. "I just…I was wondering," I begin shakily, clasping my hands behind my back, "if you would be willing to help me out with Mona. She's got all these appointments at Welby, and she's not allowed to drive, and I…I can't do it all myself." I picture my calendar again and fight the immediate exhaustion that follows.

The thinly veiled irritation on Hanna's face falls away. She looks completely blank. Then she laughs incredulously and shakes her head, throwing open the front door. "No," she says, and steps aside, a clear message for me to leave. "No way."

But I'm not giving up that easily. "Come on," I plead, not moving toward the door. "I'm not asking if she can move in with you. It'd just be a few hours out of your week at most, a doctor's appointment or a therapy session, or…just whenever I can't make it work."

Hanna shakes her head again, but I can see sympathy begin to replace apathy, her eyes softening. I don't know if it's because of my obvious desperation or because she still has some love in her heart for my sister and myself, but I go with it, walking over and grabbing her hands. "Hanna, please. I know I'm putting you in a kind of weird place. But my mom's out of the state and I have literally no one else to ask. No one else would do this. But I trust you, and I know Mona does too, even if you don't trust her. You obviously still care, otherwise you wouldn't have been sneaking into Welby. _Please._ "

She closes her eyes and pulls her hands out of mine, folding her arms. I wait anxiously, my heart beating hard. If she says no, I don't know what I'll do. I can't do all of this myself. I just can't.

"Fine," Hanna says after a long moment, and I'm so relieved my knees nearly give out. "I'll do it. Just send me the schedule and I'll tell you what works for me."

"I will as soon as I get home," I say, grinning. I want to hug her, but restrain myself, squeezing her arm instead. "God, Hanna, thank you so much. You've saving my life. I really owe you."

"No," she says, sounding genuine for the first time, "you don't." She opens the door wider, and I take the hint this time, stepping out into the hallway with a brief goodbye.

And maybe I'm seeing things, but I could swear that as she closes the door after me, she's smiling.

...

I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me, huh? I'd been taking quite the break from writing, but the atrocity that was the finale inspired me to continue Viola's story. Seriously, you guys, I had the lowest of expectations for that episode...and I was still disappointed and disgusted. So this is going to be a completely different story. _Completely._ Different A.D. storyline, different plot altogether, and...let's just say I hope none of you are too attached to the show's endgame ships. As of now, at least two of them are absolutely not making it to the end, and I'm still deciding on the others.

For anyone who's not familiar with Viola, it's probably pretty obvious after reading this just who she is, but one of my previous stories, "Sister, Sister," gives a better idea of her character and history.

I hope you enjoyed and please drop me a review! I have the first five chapters or so written so far, and I'm posting this here purely because I'd like to get some feedback on it, so the only way I'm going to update frequently is if I get some!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Okay, that dress is five shades of hideous."

I laugh out loud. "It's a Hello Kitty themed wedding, what did you expect?" I smile at my sister and feel a rush of warmth. This is exactly what I missed for so long. We're sitting on opposites sides of the couch, our legs stretched out side by side, passing a bowl of popcorn back and forth while "Say Yes to the Dress" blares on the TV mounted on the opposing wall.

It feels like old times, before underground bunkers and crazy secret siblings and bodies being thrown from church bell towers.

A commercial comes on, and I mute the TV. "Have you taken your meds yet?"

Mona shifts, resting the side of her head against the back of the couch. "Not yet. They make me so tired that I don't take them until right before bed."

I settle the bowl of popcorn on my lap and wrinkle my nose. "Is that a good idea? Because the doctors I talked to seem to think that – "

"I've taken a lot of medications in my life, Viola. I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing."

 _And obviously none of them have ever worked too well, have they?_ I think, taken aback by the sharpness in her tone. But I bite my tongue. "Yeah, yeah, you're right, sorry." I shake the nearly empty bowl. "I'll make another batch."

I heave myself up from the couch and walk into the adjoined kitchen. I'm just pulling out a new package of microwave popcorn when the doorbell rings. My sister and I exchange a glance. "Did you invite someone over?" I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. "Like who? My psychiatrist?"

We stare at the door for a moment, and when nothing happens, I shrug and turn back to the microwave. "Someone probably just came to the wrong apartment. It happens all the time."

But a few seconds later the doorbell rings again, followed by several loud, brisk knocks. Feeling a strange sense of unease that I can't really explain, I set down the popcorn and walk over to open the door.

Alison stands at the other side, looking sufficiently awkward with her hands clasped in front of her. "Hi," she says quietly.

"Uh…" I blurt out, my mind blank, and whirl around. Mona is gone. I stare at the empty couch for a long moment, stunned. But I turn the other way and see that the door to her room is closed. She must have seen Alison at the door and gone to hide.

Lucky her.

"What are you – what…?" I stammer unintelligibly. I may not have spoken to Hanna in the last few months, but I haven't even _seen_ Ali, aside from the one time I spotted her walking into the high school as I happened to be driving by. And now here she is, at my door? Something's up.

"I know this is kind of weird," she says with an embarrassed-sounding, almost apologetic laugh. "But it's kind of important. Can I come in?"

I almost slam the door in her face until I recognize the look in her eyes. It's the exact same look I had when I went to see Hanna yesterday, uncertainty and desperation and a little bit of hope. So I sigh, offer a thin smile, and gesture for her to enter.

"Go ahead and sit," I say, and take a seat back on the couch. Alison perches beside me, glancing around.

"Nice place," she says in a wavering voice.

"Thanks," I deadpan, something else occurring to me. "How did you get my new address?" I moved into this apartment, which is in the same building as my old one but a floor higher, last month. I gave out the new number to a short list of people, and she certainly wasn't one of them.

Ali lowers her eyes sheepishly. "Yesterday I told Hanna my phone died and asked if I could borrow hers. I found your address in her contacts."

She went through her friend's phone. Lovely. A little unnerved but unsurprised, I shift awkwardly on the couch, crossing and re-crossing my legs. Alison fidgets with her hands, not speaking. Her eyes flitter back and forth, not focusing on my face.

After a few unbearably long moments of this, I slap my hands on my knees and stand. "I can get you some coffee, or tea, or something." I laugh shortly. "You look like you could use a beer, but…" I gesture to her and then pat my stomach in a strange reference to her pregnancy. Wincing, I turn away and grab a glass from the cabinet above the sink.

"I lost the baby."

The glass slips from my hand. I gasp and stoop down, catching it inches before it shatters on the floor. "What?"

"I miscarried," Alison says, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. "A week and a half ago."

"Oh my – oh my God," I stutter, setting the glass down and walking back into the living room. I sink down onto the cushion beside her. "I'm so sorry. How far along…?"

She pauses, taking a breath. "About four and a half months."

I hadn't even realized you could miscarry that far along. "That's awful," I breathe, my own stomach aching. I can't even imagine. But something is still bothering me. "Um, don't take this the wrong way, but…I don't really understand why you came to tell me this. I really am sorry…but it's not like we're exactly… _friends._ "

"I know," Alison says, nodding. She twists a delicate silver bracelet around her wrist. "We've never really been friends. That's exactly why I came to you first."

I raise my eyebrows, reeling back. " _First?_ You mean…I'm the first person you've told?" My head is spinning. I wonder if I'm dreaming, or hallucinating, or if I accidentally took one of Mona's meds or something. I sneak a glance at the door to her bedroom. She's being suspiciously quiet in there – she probably has her ear pressed up to the door, listening.

Ali shifts, and finally meets my eyes. Her gaze is stronger. "Emily doesn't even know yet."

This would be the perfect time for a spit take, if I only had a drink in my hand. I'm not sure why that thought pops into my head, but I can't get it out, and I suddenly burst out laughing at the cartoonish image. Alison stares at me, so I try to explain my laughter without seeming insane. "You haven't – it's been a week and a half and you haven't even told Emily yet? Isn't she kind of…the other mother of this baby?"

The words come out harsher than intended, and I immediately feel bad. Alison lowers her head and pushes her hair behind her ear. "It's terrible, I know. I should have told her the second I found out. But I couldn't face her. Or any of them."

Suddenly this all makes a little more sense. "So you're telling me this first because we're not that close?" I clarify.

She shrugs, looking oddly vulnerable. "I needed to make sure I could get the words out. I thought you would be the right person to come to." She suddenly reaches out, grabbing my hands. "I don't hate you, Viola. I never have."

My skin itches. I very badly want to wrench my hands out of her grasp, but after what she just told me I feel powerless to do anything. "Um, thanks," I stammer. "I don't…I don't hate you, either. Anymore."

Alison lets out a breath and smiles. Then she shakes her head and pulls away, rolling her eyes. "This is so stupid," she mutters, wiping a tear out of the corner of her eye. "You must think I'm completely crazy."

I do, a little, but as much as I'm kind of freaked out by her behavior, her motive for coming here does make at least a little sense. This pregnancy has been anything but normal. As far as I know, she and Emily only officially made the decision to keep the baby a few months ago, after a lot of indecision and confusion. And now to _lose_ the baby, after all of that? Of course it would feel nearly impossible to break that news to her friends, and especially to Emily.

I pause, my blood running cold. Do I actually feel _sorry_ for Alison DiLaurentis? She has been buried alive, choked in her own living room, convicted of a murder that never happened, and years later imprisoned in a mental hospital by her psychopath husband, and I felt little more than a smug sense of karma that resulted in a little bit of guilt.

But this whole twisted pregnancy thing is way over the line. No one deserves that, not even someone who's done the awful things Ali has. And this miscarriage must be the icing on the cake.

"No, I get it," I assure her, leaning back against the couch. "Now that you've actually gotten the words out, maybe it'll be easier for you to say it again."

Ali gives me a slightly watery smile. "I doubt it. But I figured I'd give it a shot."

She stands, so I do too, placing an awkward hand on her arm for just a moment. "I'm sorry again," I say quietly. "But I think the sooner you tell someone, even if it's just Emily right now, the faster you can start to recover."

Alison flinches almost unnoticeably, but nods. "I think I'll tell her tonight…thank you, Viola."

"Yeah." I clasp my hands in front of me, rocking back on my heels. "Of course." I glance back at the closed bedroom door, considering informing her that my sister is home, but decide against it. This is the first genuine conversation I've ever had with Ali. And after what she just told me, now probably isn't the best time to drop the bomb that the person who killed her cousin – even unintentionally – is free again.

Besides, if Hanna hasn't broken the news yet, I'm sure she will soon. So I walk over to open the door, stepping aside. We exchange a smile, and Alison leaves without another word.

I shut the door feeling like a major part of my world just shifted. Ali's been my enemy for _years,_ since I was in middle school, even. But now it's like a barrier has broken down between us, finally, even if it took a horrible event to make it happen.

I walk over and knock on the door of the old guestroom. "Mon? Ali's gone." There's no reply, so I try again, pounding a little harder. "Did you hear me? I said – "

The door swings open slowly under my touch, and I push inside. I freeze, letting out a gasp.

The room is empty. And the window is wide open, the thin beige curtains fluttering in the slight evening breeze.

I take a step back, banging my hip against the doorframe. "Oh God," I whisper, and bound back into the apartment's main room. I gaze around frantically, even though there's no way she could have slipped out of her room without me noticing.

 _Shit,_ I think wildly, spinning around in a circle. What the hell happened? Everything about this situation screams that something is wrong, very wrong. More than just wrong – _A-like._

But A.D. has been gone for three months, right? If he or she or _it_ was going to do something to my sister as revenge for killing Charlotte, why would they wait this long? And how would anything bad happen without Alison and me hearing, right on the other side of the door?

My stomach roiling, I sink down on the couch and grab my cell phone. With shaking fingers, I press the first two numbers of 911. I have no idea what I'm going to say, I'll probably just start with the fact that my unstable sister is missing, but before I can type in the last digit I hear the unmistakable sound of a key in the lock.

A moment later the door to the apartment swings open and Mona walks in. She smiles at me, looking completely unconcerned.

I leap up, tossing my phone down on the table. "What – where…where the hell were you?"

"Sorry, I just went for a walk," she says, looking at me strangely like I'm overreacting or something. "I figured I'd be back before you even noticed I was gone."

I look between her and the door to the bedroom, baffled. "You went for a…walk? How? I didn't even see you – "

"Oh, I didn't use the front door," she says, waving a hand dismissively. "I saw Ali at the door and did _not_ feel like dealing with that. I used the fire escape."

My mouth drops open. I glance back into her bedroom, at the wide-open window. I'd completely forgotten that the fire escape is attached to that room. Suddenly the idea of that gives me an uneasy feeling. I wonder if I can somehow force the window to jam tomorrow without being too obvious about it.

I shake my head in awe. "So you…you decided to go for a walk, but you didn't want Alison to see you, so you _snuck out the fire escape?"_

Suddenly Mona looks worried, like it's just occurred to her that this is kind of strange. "Sorry, I should have told you where I was going. I just heard her voice, and…I needed to get some fresh air. I didn't know how long she was going to be here and I couldn't just sit in my room all night, trapped like some kind of – "

I hold up my hands. "Okay," I say, cutting her off just as I sense that she's about to get a little worked up. "Don't worry about it. Ali doesn't know you're home from Welby yet. I get why you wouldn't necessarily want to come face to face with her."

"What was she doing here?" my sister asks, sitting cautiously at the small kitchen table.

I fold my arms and lean my shoulder against the wall. "She wanted to run some news by me before she tells anyone she actually cares about, basically." When she merely raises an eyebrow curiously, I shrug and blurt out, "She lost the baby."

I'm expecting some amount of surprise, but Mona just narrows her eyes suspiciously. "At four and a half months?"

Of course she would remember exactly how far along Ali was. "Weird, right?" I ask, sitting down at the table as well. "But I guess it can happen."

"Hmm." She runs her finger absently along a groove in the wooden surface of the table. "So why exactly did Alison come to you for this heart to heart?"

I shrug again, folding my arms on the table. "Like I said, she told me first because we're not close. She wanted to make sure she could get the words out before she spills the beans to, like, Emily."

Mona looks like she's about to laugh, or at least smirk, but she composes herself and says, "This must be really hard for her."

"She looked…sad, I guess," I reply, glancing back toward the front door. "I don't know. She said it happened a week and a half ago but she still kind of seemed like she couldn't believe it."

"Really?" She wrinkles her nose. "That's kind of odd, don't you think?"

I reply with a noncommittal hum, sliding my silver ring up and down my finger. It _is_ kind of odd. I haven't seen much of Alison since I returned to Rosewood last year, but it always seemed like her natural response to any kind of trauma or stress was to sit around crying and feeling sorry for herself. That's pretty far from how she was acting tonight.

But who am I to judge? I've never even come close to going through what she is right now.

...

Thanks to the four people who reviewed the first chapter - special shoutout to FairlyOddFreak who I can't believe still has me on author alert after all these years! I appreciate the feedback so I wanted to get this chapter up soon. As much as I enjoy getting alerts that people have followed or favorited, please take a few seconds to drop me a review, guys. I post here solely to see how people respond to my work, so updates will only be frequent if I get a good amount of feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you guys so much for all the great feedback on the last chapter! I'm glad so many of you are enjoying it so far - I just wish I was able to respond to Guest reviews! To the most recent reviewer who suggested incorporating the girls more, thanks for the advice, that is exactly the kind of constructive criticism I'm looking for! These first few chapters are mostly just to establish where Viola is in her life and setting the scene, but the Liars and other characters are absolutely going to become more involved very soon as everything starts getting tangled together.**

 **This may not be the most exciting chapter, but everything that happens here is important to the plot later down the line, I promise. The more reviews I get the faster I want to update, so please drop me a review and let me know what you think! I'd love to get Chapter 4 up soon...it's when things start really heating up.**

Chapter 3

"I know I don't have any actual, you know, _experience,_ but I'm sure I could pick it up fast." I hurry after Ezra as he walks across the Brew and begins straightening the books on the shelf in the back of the room. "And I have a degree in social work so I have a lot of communication skills."

This is low, even for me. But it's recently occurred to me that I need a job. When I returned to Rosewood over a year ago, I thought it would just be for a few days, maybe a week at the most. I figured I'd testify at Charlotte's hearing and move on to Philadelphia, find a cheap apartment and a job as a social worker.

Up until now I've been able to get away with living off of college fund cash I didn't end up using – thank god for scholarships – and money from various investments that I made during my brief time as a business major. And okay, maybe a little help from my mother.

But my funds have made a sharp decline over the past few months, especially with my move into a larger apartment. And since I certainly can't expect my sister to get a job right now, it's up to me.

So here I am.

"I'm sorry, Viola," Ezra says very unapologetically, not meeting my eyes as he switches around a few books on the top shelf. "I'm just not so sure that's a good idea."

"Oh, come on," I urge, struggling to keep any hint of a whine out of my voice. Pleading for Hanna's help was one thing. But there is absolutely no way in hell I am going to beg Ezra Fitz to give me a job. "You haven't had any new help in here since Sabrina quit. And you're all wrapped up in wedding preparations…"

I trail off, noticing the slightly dark look that clouds his expression at the mention of the wedding. But a moment later it's gone and he turns to me fully, his face so neutral that I wonder if I imagined the look altogether.

"You have a degree," he says, his voice low. "Why are you applying for a job at a coffee shop?"

I shrug. "Because I only plan on staying in this town as long as I have to. And Rosewood doesn't exactly have the biggest job market for social workers." He continues to stare at me, clearly unconvinced, and suddenly my heart takes a dive. "Oh, God," I say, feeling anger flare up, "if this has to do with Mona and what happened with Charlotte, I really – "

Ezra holds up his hands, cutting me off. "No, no. Not at all," he insists, and I don't think I believe him until he goes on, his voice barely a whisper, "Actually, to be honest, I think she did us all a favor."

Something about the way he said it sends a chill up my spine. But I shake the bad feeling off and say, "So what's the problem, then?"

He shakes his head and stoops down to adjust a vase of flowers on the little table beside the big, cushiony couch. "I haven't really been having good luck keeping employees here. People tend to come aboard and work for a few months until something better comes along." His face darkens again, and I know he must be thinking of Sabrina. "And with you saying you don't plan on staying in Rosewood…"

"A year," I blurt out, a promise that I absolutely don't intend to keep. "I swear I'll stay for a year. With a month of advance notice before I leave."

Ezra looks down, thinking, and I fidget, hoping he's not going to ask for that promise in writing. But finally he nods, smiling distractedly. "Fine. Can you come in for barista training tomorrow at eight?"

"I'll be there!" I chirp without consulting my schedule. Hopefully my sister doesn't have any early morning appointments tomorrow. "You won't regret this, I swear."

"I hope not," Ezra mumbles, mostly to himself, and I make sure to turn fully away before I roll my eyes. I haven't even started this job yet and I can already tell that it's going to test me.

A familiar blonde head bobs through the door and I gasp at the sight of my former best friend. "Macy," I exclaim, keeping my voice down since this is, after all, my new place of employment. I rush over to her. "I didn't know you were back."

Macy smiles and brushes her side-swept bangs out of her face. She was technically scheduled to graduate from Hollis last year, but she decided to dedicate her last semester to going on a study abroad in France.

" _Bonjour,_ " she replies in an almost perfect accent, then laughs. "Four months in Marseille and that's still about all I can say."

"I doubt that," I reply. "I have a feeling total immersion does a lot more than listening to our old French teacher read straight from the textbook."

"It _was_ pretty amazing," Macy admits. "France is incredible. Although now that I've experienced the world of baguettes and croissants I'm not sure I can go back." I laugh and she holds up a finger. "Just give me a sec."

I awkwardly fiddle with my phone as Macy orders coffee. A few minutes later we're sitting on the couch in the back of the Brew. Ezra is thankfully no longer in the vicinity.

I spend fifteen minutes oohing and ahhing over Macy's many photos of Marseille, Paris, and Nimes. Finally the sets her phone down and takes a long sip of coffee, giving me a thoughtful stare. "I thought you'd be long gone by the time I got back."

Macy's been gone for four months, I realize, flinching. She has no idea what happened, and I really don't want to have this conversation. But I know that she's going to find out eventually, so I take a deep breath and say, "Uh, yeah. So did I."

She wrinkles her brow, setting down her Styrofoam cup. "So what happened? Is everything okay?"

"No," I blurt out without thinking, and her eyes widen in concern. "I mean, yes, everything's fine now," I hastily backpedal. "Do you, um, do you remember when my sister was institutionalized? Between sophomore and junior year?"

"Yeah," Macy says slowly. She looks down, clearly trying to understand, and then her eyes light up with realization. She looks at me in horror. "Oh God, Viola."

"There was an…incident," I say in a low voice, leaning toward her so no nosy customers can overhear. As soon as the word leaves my mouth, my mind flashes back to that horrible, scary night. My sister having a nervous breakdown in the Two Crows diner and then vanishing without a trace. Getting that anxious call from Spencer and speeding to the Lost Woods to find her catatonic and disconnected from reality, dressed in glasses and clothes from so long ago.

Finding out that she killed Charlotte.

I so badly want to spill my guts to Macy, to cry and tell her everything instead of bottling it up like I have for three months. But she can't know the full truth about that night. No one can. No one outside of the eight people in that motel room who listened to Mona's story and made a promise to never say a word.

Apparently I've been silent for too long, thinking about all of this, because Macy shakes her head. There's a deep, worried crease between her eyebrows. "What do you mean by 'incident'? You're kind of starting to freak me out, Vi."

I wave my hands in front of myself quickly. "Don't freak out. She just had a little bit of a breakdown one night. She sort of…reverted back to her former self," I add, choosing my words carefully and trying not to give away too much. "You know, back when Alison bullied her. It was pretty scary, I mean, it happened in the middle of the night, but everything's completely fine now."

Macy nods, staring down at the dregs of coffee left in her cup. I can practically see the gears in her head turning as she takes all of this in. At last she looks up at me, her expression quizzical. "So why does all of that mean you have to stay in Rosewood? Where is she now?"

I force a smile. "She was released from Welby Hospital a few days ago. She has to stay in town for outpatient treatment and since I have temporary guardianship, I can't leave either."

There was a time, back in high school, when she would tilt her head, not understanding, and I would have to go through a big explanation of what guardianship means, and probably even outpatient treatment, too. But apparently college and traveling to Europe have changed her, because she just gives me a nod of comprehension and says, "God, that's just…crazy." She gasps a little and puts a hand to her throat. "Oh, um, sorry, is that word, like…offensive?"

"Maybe a little," I admit, smiling. "But don't worry about it."

"It's just so hard to believe," Macy goes on, biting her lip. "I mean, whenever I think of Mona I still picture the super-popular girl who took Alison's place and basically ignored me whenever I spent the night at your house."

I roll my eyes, smirking. "I know. She's gone through so much since then, that girl almost feels like a different person."

I meant it in a joking way, but my voice cracks on the last word. I clear my throat uncomfortably and Macy scoots closer, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Listen. I know I wasn't the best friend to you when your sister had her…breakdown, I guess, in high school. But I want things to be different this time around. I'm going to be living here with my parents for a few months while I look for a job. I want you to know that I'm here for you, _and_ Mona."

Her words are so genuine that I actually feel tears rush to my eyes. I blink them back, embarrassed. If only we'd had this conversation a few days ago, before I was forced to beg Hanna to help me.

Just as I'm opening my mouth to thank her, Macy's phone chimes, and she glances down at it and lets out a little scream. I jump, startled. "What is it?"

"Oh my God, this is perfect!" she squeals. "This is just what you need right now!"

Her words aren't sarcastic, but they make me nervous nonetheless. "W-what are you talking about?"

My old best friend sets her phone down and claps her hands. "My cousin is coming to town this weekend, and he's bringing his best friend from high school. This guy is incredible, Viola."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh? You know him?"

"Well, no," Macy admits, winking. "Fine. His _looks_ are incredible. And he went to Penn for undergrad so he must be smart, too."

"Okay," I say slowly, leaning back and crossing my arms. "Lucky you, then. But what exactly does this have to do with me?"

She waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, he's totally not my type. But the three of us are going to dinner at the Grille on Saturday night. My cousin and I have a lot to catch up on, and I'd hate for Corey to feel out of place."

 _Oh._ I see where she's going with this, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. "So…you want me to come along and double date with you and…your cousin?"  
Macy smacks me on the arm, laughing. "Ew! Don't put it like that. I just think four is such a nice, rounded number for a night out. No awkwardness, no one left as the third wheel. And," she adds, leaning toward me, "I know for a fact that he's single."

I press my lips together and shake my head, my stomach already churning with nerves at just the thought of it. "I don't think so, Macy. That's sweet, but I'm not really interested in a relationship right now. I kind of have a lot going on."

"Who said anything about a relationship?" she insists, a little too loudly. "It's just dinner! What you need is a little bit of fun. It's not like you're marrying the guy."

I haven't had a date in over a year. And I've never been on a _blind_ date in my life. I twist a strand of hair around my finger nervously. Can I really do this right now?

But on second thought, what do I have to lose? She's right – it's just one dinner. If I hate the guy, he'll leave once the weekend's over and I'll never have to see him again. It's not like I have anything resting on this.

So I sigh and relent. "I just got a new job," I say, conveniently leaving out the fact that my place of employment is, in fact, right where we're sitting, "so I'll have to see if I'm scheduled to work that night. But if I'm not I guess I can make it work."

Macy grins and grabs my arm. "Yes! This is going to be so great. Just like old times."

 _Old times,_ I think, smiling back at her as brightly as I can. That feels like the phrase of the week.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to everyone for your kind comments! Considering even I didn't think the last chapter was super exciting, I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of feedback! Keep it up - your reviews make me want to update faster!

Raini - Trust me, I do my research before incorporating any real world situation into my stories. I am very sorry about any personal loss you've experienced but everything I write has some kind of purpose and I will not be attempting to justify that. Considering your obvious sensitivity toward this subject, this may not be the story for you.

And for the Guest who asked about the timeline, this takes place three months after 7x19. A.D. has not been revealed - this is a completely different storyline than the one given to us in the show.

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Chapter 4

The feeling of foreboding hits me as I'm walking up the stairs of my apartment building. It's like a punch to the gut, so intense and sudden that I fumble with the grocery bags I'm holding.

Breathing hard, I lean my back against the wall and close my eyes. I developed anxiety after my junior prom night, once Charlotte was locked away, but I haven't had a panic attack in at least three years. And I can't remember ever having one that feels like this.

Because this isn't blind panic…it's a strange, dark feeling of dread.

Once I compose myself, I run the rest of the way up the stairs and down the hallway, the heavy bags bumping against my hip. I turn the corner and freeze.

The door to my apartment is wide open. Looking closer, it appears that the lock hasn't merely been picked – it's been completely broken.

My blood runs cold, and before I've stopped to think about it, I let out a string of curse words, drop the grocery bags on the ground, and rush inside, where I immediately stop short for a second time.

It's a mess.

The big plant by the back window has been overturned, and dirt is smeared across the floor. The fridge door is open, and the carton of milk is lying on its side, the last of its contents dripping onto an expansive puddle. Every curtain rod is halfway pulled down, and various pillows and knickknacks have been strewn around the room, some things broken, others just misplaced. I peer quickly into the bedrooms to find them both in a similar state.

I stumble back into the living room, gazing around in horror. Sometime during the forty-five minutes that I was at the store, someone _broke into_ my apartment. But my hasty search reveals that nothing seems to have been stolen.

I sink down onto the couch, shaking my head in disbelief. Why would someone break in only to wreck the place without even taking anything? My laptop is still sitting untouched on my bedside table. Nothing is missing from my jewelry box. The extra cash that I keep in a box on the top shelf of my closet is all accounted for. Nothing about this makes any _sense._

And then I remember: I'm not the only person who lives here.

I rip my phone out of my purse and dial, my leg jiggling nervously. "Hey," Mona answers after an endless amount of rings, and I'm so relieved that my vision blurs for a second. "What's going on?"

Despite my brief reprieve from panic, my heart is still pounding. "Where are you?" I ask sharply.

There's a long pause, and I'm just starting to freak myself out again when she replies in obvious confusion, "On my way home from Welby with Hanna. We'll be back in about fifteen minutes."

"Ah," I say with a fresh wave of alarm, gazing around my trashed apartment again as a new problem hits me. Mona's been doing so well since she got out of the hospital last week, but I really have no idea how stable her new, seemingly healthy state of mind is. Something like this could really set her back, and I am _so_ not prepared to deal with another breakdown.

"Um," I stammer, my mind spinning, "do you think you could…maybe spend the afternoon at Hanna's? Just, you know, a couple hours?"  
I can practically see my sister making a face. "Why?"

My eyes flit around the room, desperate to find an excuse that can fool the best liar I know. I focus on the puddle of milk on the floor in front of the refrigerator. It's started to spread, and some of the milk has dampened a bit of the adjoining living room carpet.

Bingo. "I, um, I totally forgot to tell you, but I have carpet cleaners coming. They'll be here any minute and since the apartment's so small, I don't want to, uh, get in their way. I'm heading out as soon as they get here, I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Oh," Mona says, and I wince at the note of suspicion in her tone. I sit silently, listening to the muffled voices on the other end of the phone until she finally gets back on the line. "Yep, it's all good. Let me know when they're done and Hanna will drop me off."

"Cool," I breathe, sinking back into the couch. "See you later." I hang up and toss my phone down with a sigh. At least there's one good thing coming from this – my sister seems to be rebuilding her friendship with Hanna.

But that doesn't exactly help me right now.

I gaze around the remains of my apartment one more time before taking a deep breath and forcing myself to my feet. If I want to get all of this cleaned up in just a few hours, I'd better start now.

After dealing with the puddle of milk on the floor, I turn to the mangled curtains. Even though the rod is halfway detached, the curtains themselves are still pulled shut, concealing most of the window. Standing on tiptoe, I fasten the rod back in place, then grab hold of the drapes and pull them apart.

Instead of the unconcealed view of the tops of the trees and the redbrick building next-door, bright red writing greets me. I gasp and leap back, staring at the message scrawled across the glass.

 _YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS OVER?_

There's no identifying signature, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out who this is from. I stumble backward, tripping on the coffee table and grabbing onto the edge of the couch to steady myself. My eyes scan the five words over and over again, frantically trying to come up with an alternate explanation for this, but I come up empty.

The apartment that I now share with my sister has been wrecked. Nothing has been stolen. And this message seems to be the grand finale.

Without bothering to clean up the rest of the mess, I grab my purse and rush out the door.

…

"Whoa, Viola, back up and pause. What _exactly_ did you find?"

Spencer's giving me a look like she thinks I'm absolutely crazy, but it's too late to stop now. I glance around the room, meeting the eyes of her, Aria, Emily, and Alison individually, before replying, "My apartment was trashed when I got home. And there was a…message, I guess, written on the window. Although it was more like a threat."

Emily's brow furrows. "What did it say?"

I relay the words to them, and the four girls exchange glances. When I arrived at Spencer's house and asked her to invite all of the others, minus Hanna, over for an important discussion, she didn't seem to believe that I had anything significant to say. But now there's no mistaking the conflicted emotions on her face.

"So what are you saying?" Aria asks, her voice high-pitched with nervousness. "You think A.D.'s… _back?_ "

I shrug, sinking down onto the arm of the sofa and crossing my arms. "I don't see who else would have done this. Nothing was stolen. And it felt like the message on the window was the point of the whole thing."

"I don't understand," Alison says. She puts her hands on her stomach protectively, and I raise my eyebrows but don't comment. It must just be a force of habit. "A.D.'s been gone for three months. Why would they suddenly start the game again?"

"Whoa, okay," Spencer says sharply, holding up her hands. Her eyes are wide. "Can we not just jump to conclusions?" She turns to me. "The message wasn't signed, right? That means we have no idea who did this. Maybe somebody was just trying to mess with you."

"Like who?" I cry, leaping up from the arm of the couch. "This has A written all over it. Think about it." I pace along the edge of the rug, unable to keep still as the gravity of the situation begins to sink in. "A.D. made you guys play the game in the first place because they were trying to find out who killed Charlotte. Then Mona confesses and we're just supposed to believe that this person was happy to drive off and never do anything about it? This message wasn't for me, you guys, it was for my sister. Mona's out of Welby, and A.D. is back, and they want revenge."

I'd never actually thought about that before, but as the words are leaving my mouth I know they're true. Back when Hanna falsely confessed to murdering Charlotte, A.D. kidnapped her and tortured her with a cattle prod in a shed until she was able to escape. I was insane to think that A.D. would leave town for good after Mona admitted what she'd done. We all were.

My chest tightens with panic and I'm taking in a breath to go on when Aria puts a hand on my arm. "Hey, calm down, okay?" she says kindly. "You don't know that."

"I mean, it makes sense," Emily says, and I wince. " 'You thought this was over'?" We _all_ thought A.D. was gone for good."

I knew as much, but hearing someone else confirm my fear makes it seem so much more serious. "Oh, God," I groan, wrapping my arms around myself. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Where's Mona now?" Ali asks, looking surprisingly concerned.

"With Hanna," I answer. "She doesn't know about this, and I want to keep it that way. You guys can tell Hanna when you see her, that's fine, but the last thing I want is my sister spiraling back into some dissociative episode."

Spencer shifts uncomfortably, exchanging a glance with Aria. "Are you sure that's such a good idea? If someone really is out to get her, don't you think she should know about it?"

That's a good point. I stop pacing and lean against the wall, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I don't…I don't know, okay? I guess I'll figure it out. I just thought the rest of you should know since…well, you were who A.D. was going after before. You might not be safe, either."

The girls frown uncomfortably, fidgeting. "Thanks," Aria murmurs, giving me a shaky smile. "I'm glad you told us."

"Yeah," Spencer adds as the others mumble their agreement. "Just…be alert, but don't worry too much about it yet, alright? It still might be nothing."

I feel like that's major wishful thinking, but nod and check my watch. "Right. Well, I've only got a few hours to clean up my entire apartment, so I should probably go."

"Okay," Spencer says, and smiles at me awkwardly before turning to her friends. "Does anyone else want some coffee or anything?"

"We should probably go too," Emily replies, touching Alison's arm as I hitch my purse higher on my shoulder and start for the door. "We'd been talking about getting some last minute things done for the nursery today."

 _What?_ I freeze in the doorway to the great room, sure I heard incorrectly. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see Alison smile and pat her stomach, saying to Spencer and Aria, "I keep telling her we have plenty of time, but…"

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with wanting to be prepared," Emily says, grinning giddily at her.

Maybe I really am losing it. Hallucinating, or something. I stare, open-mouthed, as Emily and Ali brush past me to the door. I rush after them a few moments later, following them outside. "Hey," I whisper to Ali, grabbing her arm as Emily gets into the car. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," she says, moving closer to the house. "What's up?" Her tone is light, her expression oblivious, but her eyes are hard.

"What the hell is going on?" I snap, keeping my voice low. "Why does everyone still think you're _pregnant?_ "

Alison huffs and takes a step back, crossing her arms. Her posture straightens defensively. "That's none of your business."

"Um, I'm pretty sure it became my business the second you came into my home and announced your miscarriage," I hiss, shaking my head in disbelief. "You haven't been pregnant for almost three weeks and you're still letting Emily fantasize and decorate the nursery? How could you do this to her?"

For just a split second, I swear I see something pass through her eyes. Amusement, maybe? But I blink and it's gone, and I wonder if I'm just seeing what I want to see, if my bad memories are clouding my perception.

"I will tell her," Ali says finally, through clenched teeth. "You don't know how hard this is for me."

A week and a half ago I'd sympathized with this attitude. But maybe it's because my apartment was recently destroyed or maybe because I thought we were all done with the lying, but my pity has dried up. "Maybe not," I say quietly. "But I do think I know how hard it's going to be for Emily when she finds out that you're not only no longer having her baby, but that you've been lying to her about it for weeks."

Alison's face pales. She presses her lips together in a thin line. "She's never going to have to know that I lied. I know you would never say anything."

Once upon a time that might have been a risky statement to make. But she's right. After Charlotte I promised myself that I would stop meddling with other people's business, getting involved in drama.

Fortunately, this time I don't have to. "Well," I say with a smile, stepping closer, "I'm pretty sure most people don't suddenly miscarry at eight months pregnant, so you'd better pull yourself together and get the words out before it's too late."

My hands shaking, I spin around and stalk away, leaving her standing nervously behind me. But as I get into my own car and pull out of Spencer's driveway, I force the situation out of my head.

I have problems of my own to deal with…starting with scrubbing a threat off of my living room window.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to the three people who left legitimate reviews on the last chapter! I appreciate your feedback. I'd really love to get even five or six reviews as we go forward, so please let me know what you think! Five reviews equals a quick update!

And hooray, my first unnecessary comment from a bitter shipper! I can't believe it took this long! Go ahead and flame all you want, hun. You're not hurting my feelings and all you're doing is giving this story more attention. ;) Remember, I warned you guys that all of these couples aren't necessarily going to have happy endings!

* * *

Chapter 5

Can you develop restless leg syndrome later in life?

I've never really thought about it, but as I sit alone at a table for four in the back of the Grille, my leg is jiggling so forcefully that I'm worried it's going to send me toppling right out of my seat.

It's a nervous habit, something I've done since high school. When I'm anxious, I can't sit still. And I have plenty to be anxious about tonight.

First of all, A.D. is back. The girls might not be convinced, but I know what I saw, and what happened to my apartment had A written all over it. I'm terrified for my sister, and I've done everything possible over the last few days to make sure she doesn't find out until I'm ready to tell her.

She's suspicious, though, I can tell. I vacuumed the carpet until my arms ached before she got home that day to make it look like the carpet cleaners had been by, but I'm not quite sure I pulled it off. And when she asked why half of the food was gone from the fridge, I couldn't exactly explain that a psychopath had left it open for a good part of the morning, so I stammered out some lame excuse about going on a cleaning binge and getting rid of anything even nearing its expiration date.

She seemed to buy it. But if I know Mona, I know that the second she gets even the slightest bit skeptical, she will stop at nothing to find out what's really going on.

So I need to figure out how to tell her the truth.

But right now I need to figure out how I'm going to survive this date.

A flash of blond hair catches my eye, and a moment later Macy appears beside the table, beaming as she reaches down and hugs me. "Hey!" she exclaims, then whispers in my ear, "I was worried you weren't going to show up."

"I wouldn't do that," I mutter back, even though it did cross my mind a few dozen times today. Then, steeling myself, I stand and face the two guys beside her.

One is tall and skinny as a stick, the spitting image of Macy except that his eyes are a darker brown and his face is slightly rounder. The other, Corey, I assume, is only a few inches taller than me, but with thick dark hair, bright green eyes, and arms that I can tell are strong even underneath the button-down he's wearing, he definitely fits Macy's description from the other day.

"Viola," Macy says excitedly, giving me a little nudge, "this is my cousin Michael, and this is Corey. Guys, this is Viola. We were best friends in high school."

That's a bit inaccurate, but I smile anyway and hold out my hand to Corey. "Hi, it's nice to meet you. Macy told me you studied at Penn?"

"Damn right I did," he replies, his voice booming, and grins as he takes a seat at the table. _What kind of answer is that?_ I flinch, meeting Macy's gaze with wide eyes, but she just gives me an encouraging nod as she and her cousin sit down as well.

I take a deep breath and lower myself into the chair beside Corey, beginning to wonder just what I've gotten myself into. "In the top ten universities in the country," he goes on, raising his hand to flag down a server.

"I, um, I thought about applying to Penn," I blurt out, fiddling with my napkin. "But I ultimately decided I wanted to move out of state for a while." I pause, and when he only nods, I answer the unasked question. "I went to Oberlin."

"Ah, beautiful campus," Michael chimes in from across the table. "I toured there myself, in high school."

"Viola's going into social work," Macy says loudly, giving me a conspiratorial smile. I roll my eyes discreetly, wishing she wasn't trying so hard to play matchmaker.

"Going into?" Corey asks, raising an eyebrow. "No luck scoring a job yet?"

"It's been a bit of a rough year," I mutter, and am just about to ask Mr. Smartypants what _he_ does for a living when our waitress appears to take our drink orders.

Macy and Michael both order from the wine list, and Corey asks for a gin and tonic. When the waitress looks at me, last, I smile and say, "Just water's fine, thanks."

Corey glances at me, almost dismissively. "Can't say I've seen many twenty-four year olds willing to pass up an opportunity to knock one back."

I sit back in my seat, completely disenchanted. What the hell is this guy's problem? The first word out of his mouth to me was a curse, he openly judged my career – or lack of one, I suppose – and now he's criticizing my drink order? And now he, Macy, and her cousin are all looking at me, clearly intrigued.

I really don't want to get into it, but I'm far too exhausted already to come up with an excuse, so I sigh and say, "My, uh, my sister can't have alcohol, so I…I'm trying to do the same."

Macy rolls her eyes dramatically. "Oh, come on, Viola. Mona isn't even _here._ Let yourself live for once!"

I give her a look, feeling the fury begin to build, and Michael leans forward, his elbows on the table. "Just out of curiosity, why can't she drink? Some kind of allergy?"

"No," I reply, because now that I'm this far in I might as well go all the way. Besides, if I don't tell them now, it's only a matter of time before Macy blurts it out, and she's not exactly the most sensitive storyteller on the planet. "She…" I lower my voice, glancing around to make sure I don't recognize any of the diners around us. "She had a sort of mental breakdown a few months ago. No alcohol for at least six months, doctor's orders."

"Mental breakdown," Corey muses, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms. He gives me a long look for the first time since we sat down. "Fascinating. So…what's wrong with her? Schizophrenia? A buddy of mine in the dorms – "

"A personality disorder," I cut him off coolly. The waitress returns with our drinks, and I lift my water glass to my mouth immediately, taking a long sip as I try to regain my composure. Everything about this jerk reminds me of the clueless, arrogant boys in high school. I thought that everyone got over that stage somewhere between college and an actual career, but apparently I was mistaken, because there's living proof sitting right beside me that some people just never get over themselves.

"Can't say I have much experience in the way of those types of diseases," Corey goes on loudly, and I can't help but smirk at his ability to turn every conversation back to himself. I glance at Macy again, and this time the smile she gives me in return is a bit more apologetic. "But then again, mental disorders aren't my specialty."

"Oh?" I ask, my gaze fixed on the menu in front of me. "And what _is_ your specialty?"

"Cardiology." He takes a gulp of his drink and sets it down hard. "But it's funny you should ask. I actually have a big announcement to make."

Michael frowns. "What's going on, man?"

I shift uncomfortably, looking around impatiently for the waitress to reappear and take our orders. I have no idea what I want to eat, my appetite flew right out the window somewhere around the "what's wrong with her" comment, but the sooner we get our food, the sooner I can get the hell out of this disastrous date.

"I've been transferred," Corey declares, and I cross my fingers under the table, praying for his next word to be _Alaska,_ or maybe _Moscow._ He clears his throat and shoots me a toothy grin. "To Rosewood Community Hospital."

My heart lurches. I nearly gasp, but manage to hide it with a cough, turning away until I get my bearings. "Really?" Michael says, nodding. "I've heard great things about the hospital here. Congrats." He lifts his wine glass in a congratulatory gesture.

"I like what I've seen of this town so far," Corey agrees, and I seriously hope he's not talking about me. I refuse to look his way, just in case. "And I'll be working closely with another new transfer."

"Oh, that's nice," Macy pipes up, her tone light. "Where's he coming from?"

"Somewhere international," he responds with a wave of his hand. "London, maybe? Dr. Kingston. He's got a weird first name, God, what is it…some kind of bird or something."

My head snaps up, and all three of them look at me, clearly startled by my reaction. _London. Kingston. Named after a bird._ Can one statement really contain that many coincidences? "Um, Wren?" I blurt out, breathless. " _Wren_ Kingston?"

Corey picks up his fork and points it at me. "That's it."

Macy tilts her head, frowning. "That name sounds really…wait. He used to live here, didn't he? Didn't he date Spencer Hastings' older sister?"

 _And also Spencer herself, briefly,_ I think, nodding. "Yeah, that was him. I, um, I didn't think he had any plans to leave London."

Corey shrugs as the waitress walks over, pencil and notepad in hand. "Apparently the transfer was pretty abrupt," he says to us, ignoring her completely as she waits to take his order. "It's kind of strange, really. He's been practicing for a while now so he had a lot of different choices for his transfer location. But from what I heard, he insisted on Rosewood." He turns away, glancing indifferently at the waitress. "I'll do a steak, medium rare."

I have possibly never been less attracted to an admittedly good-looking man in my life. But my mind is spinning as I absentmindedly order the first thing I see on the menu. A.D. returned a few days ago, after three months of silence. And now Wren is suddenly leaving London, and maybe even Melissa, to run back to Rosewood?

Something's up. And if I had to guess, I'd say that something has to do with Charlotte…and her death.

I lower my head and grimace. There's only one way that I'm going to be able to get answers about Wren and any potential involvement he has in what's going on around here. So I swallow my pride, force a smile on my face, and put my hand on Corey's arm. "You know, I've actually always found cardiology to be _really_ interesting. I'd love to hear more about what you do."

…

My head is pounding so hard by the time I get home that even the slight scraping sound of my key in the lock makes me wince.

Never before has two hours gone so slowly. I'm pretty sure I know enough about medical school and cardiology that I could become a doctor now myself. I picture Corey's smug smirk and my hand clenches into an instinctive fist. I didn't let him kiss me when he dropped me off, but he does now have my number.

There's nothing I want to do less than go out on another date with that insufferable asshole, especially one without Macy and Michael there to diffuse the tension. But if I want to get any kind of answers about Wren, I need to keep him around for a few months, at the most. I can handle that.

I wonder as I push open the door to my apartment if that makes me just as big of a jerk as Corey. Using him to get to someone else? But at least my bad behavior is actually for a good reason.

Mona's sitting on the couch when I walk inside, her arms folded as she stares up at the TV. "Oh my God, I'm so glad you're home," I breathe, shutting the door and tossing my purse onto the nearest chair. "I just spent two hours with the world's most egotistical – "

She turns off the TV and stands in one abrupt movement, then narrows her eyes and cuts me off with a sharp, "I know you lied to me."

I blink, stepping back. Blood rushes to my head. "Uh, w-what about?"

My sister walks over to stand in front of me, her arms still tightly crossed. "Carpet cleaners? You seriously thought I'd buy that?"

I'm at a loss for words, so I let out an awkward laugh instead, brushing my hair out of my face just for something to do with my hands. "I…uh…I didn't…" She raises her eyebrows, giving me a look that actually makes me a little frightened, so I sigh and relent. "Fine. I lied. I told you there were carpet cleaners coming because I wanted to keep you out of the apartment."

Mona tilts her chin up. Anger is practically radiating off of her. " _Why?_ "

Her voice is low and dark, and reminds me unsettlingly of her days as A. I feel even more now that this is a bad idea, but I can't exactly backtrack now, so I give in, sitting down heavily on the couch. "Because someone trashed it."

She scoffs and sits down as well, though at the kitchen table instead of beside me. " _Someone._ Save it, Viola. We both know you're talking about A.D."

My stomach clenches. I'd been expecting her to catch on, just maybe not so quickly. "I – I don't…how do you know that?"

"Who else would it be?" Mona says simply, but then rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. "And I got this text the other day."

She tosses it to me, and I fumble to catch it with shaking hands, fearing the worst. The message on the screen glows up at me, the words looking oddly sinister even before I put them together.

 _Did you really believe you'd gotten away with murder? Think again, bitch. – A.D._

I lower the phone, my eyes still on the screen. "Oh my God," I exhale. Panic has squeezed itself around my heart. Even though the break-in the other day clued me in on A.D.'s reappearance, this is direct confirmation.

And it's worse than I could have imagined.

"Oh my God," I say again, dropping the phone onto the couch like it'd just burned me. "I can't believe – why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Oh." My sister rolls her eyes, leaning back against the chair. "Right. Just like you told me about the break-in? I'm not the only one keeping secrets around here, Viola."

I wince, partly because of the bite to her words, but mostly because she's right. I really can't be mad. I did the same thing.

The only difference is that I'm not the one who killed Charlotte.

"Okay," I say quietly, my voice shaking as my mind goes over and over that text. I get up from the couch and sit down in the empty seat at the table. "From now on, no secrets. We tell each other everything that's going on. A.D. is _back_ , and…this is bad. Like, _really_ bad." I'm rambling now, my voice rising in pitch. I force myself to take a breath. "I mean…aren't you scared?"

Mona hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. "Of course I am," she mutters finally, looking anywhere but at me. "I'm scared out of my mind."

"So what do we do?" I burst out, leaning my forehead against my hand. I can feel my pulse pounding. "Tell the police?"

She gives me an incredulous look, and I feel stupid even before she starts talking. "Tell the police what? That someone's out for revenge because I impaled Charlotte with a piece of metal?"

"You didn't mean to do it," I protest immediately, but sigh and shake my head. "But you're right. We can't tell the police about A.D. without also telling them about what you did to Charlotte."

"We can't tell _anyone_ ," she says firmly. "Especially not Hanna and the rest of the Scooby Doo gang. I was so close to cracking this thing three months ago, until they all got involved and messed everything up."

My heart sinks at her words. "Um, well…"

She narrows her eyes at me. " _What?_ "

"I told them," I blurt out, then hastily go on before she has the chance to murder me. "I didn't know what else to do, okay? I didn't want to upset you like that right after you got home from the hospital, but I needed to get advice from _someone._ " I roll my eyes and fold my arms. "But you don't have to worry about anyone getting involved. They don't seem to want to believe that A.D. is really back."

"Fine. Just don't tell them anything more," Mona sighs, sitting back and thankfully looking pacified. "Especially not Alison."

A jolt of surprise runs through me. "What do you mean? What about Alison?" She hesitates, glancing at me shiftily, so I frown and raise my eyebrows. "No more secrets, sis."

My sister looks for a moment like she's considering whether or not to flee, but finally huffs and pushes her chair back from the table. "You and Hanna weren't the only ones who visited me at Welby."

Even though her tone is dark, I'm flooded with curiosity, and also, strangely, a little bit of relief. "Really?" I ask, pleased with the thought until I remember her earlier comment. "Wait, Alison – "

"Not Alison," Mona says, and stands abruptly. She walks into her bedroom, and before I can even make a move to follow, she returns with her laptop and a slim black flash drive. "Jenna."

The thought of Alison paying my sister visits at the hospital was alarming, but the image of _Jenna_ doing so is somehow worse. "I…why? Isn't she just teaching at Rosewood now? What would she want to talk to you about?"

"Actually, she wasn't very interested in talking." Mona sticks the flash drive into the laptop, and I pull my chair around to see the screen. "She gave me this and told me to watch it as soon as possible. So that night I snuck out of my room and plugged it into the computer at the nurse's station."

The drive's contents appear on the screen – just one video file. She clicks on it and presses play.

It's a shaky video that appears to have been taken from the bushes, aiming through the partway-open window. I squint, sitting on my hands and leaning closer. "That looks like…what, some kind of doctor's office?"

"Shh," Mona says, nodding toward the screen just as someone begins to speak, the voice slightly muffled through the mostly-closed window.

"So? Did you work it out?"

A girl with long blond hair walks into the room, standing directly in front of the window and folding her arms as she watches someone out of view. It takes me a moment to recognize her as a very young-looking Alison. I raise my eyebrows. She couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen when this video was taken.

"I made some calls," someone responds. Maybe it's because of his accented voice, or maybe it's because he's been on my mind all night, but I know who it is even before he steps into the room and shoots Alison a slightly crooked smile.

Wren.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks so much to the eight people who left reviews since the last upload! It is so great to see that people are reading and enjoying, and I'm especially glad that a lot of you are excited about Wren's return! His role will be explained a lot more over the next few chapters.

As far as some of the questions and suggestions, there will indeed be flashbacks later on in the story, from various characters' perspectives. And although this entire story is told from Viola's perspective, other characters' storylines will become more major parts of the narrative as well.

I was so glad to get some good and interesting feedback on the last chapter, so please keep it up by letting me know what you think of this one as well! I'd love to get the next chapter up soon!

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Chapter 6

"Alison knew Wren?" I gasp out loud, clapping a hand to my mouth.

"Be quiet," my sister hisses, turning up the volume on the computer. "That's not all."

I'm already pretty blown away, but I clench my teeth and force down any other questions, watching intently as Wren walks over to Ali. "You know I can't make any guarantees. But I'm going to do everything possible to help you."

They're standing so close together that I wonder if I'm about to find out that Alison was having another torrid love affair the summer that she went missing. But then she brushes past him, her blonde curls bouncing against her back as she crosses the room. Whoever's taking the video shifts to get a better view, and the camera shakes with the movement. I wince, the effect making me a little motion sick.

"It has to happen," Ali says firmly, and I'm taken aback by the note of fear in her voice. As much as she seems to love crying and playing the victim now, the fifteen-year-old Ali that I remember was fearless. There was nothing she hated more than anyone seeing even a glimmer of weakness in her.

So whatever she's talking about, it must be serious.

"And I'm doing my best to _make_ it happen," Wren says patiently, sticking his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat. "But there's only so much I can do as a student. I want you to remember that there _are_ other options, Alison. This isn't the only – "

"You don't understand." Ali whirls around. The part of her face that I can see is bright red. She looks uncharacteristically unhinged, out of control. "I don't have any other choice. I can't just go home and raise a baby."

"I wish you would tell me why that is," Wren says, moving toward her. He reaches out to touch her arm, but she pulls away sharply. "If this is about someone you're afraid of, I can – "

"No," she snaps. "It's nothing. Just…" She pulls a pen out of her purse and leans down, scribbling something onto the thin protective paper that covers the exam table. "Call me at this number when you have an answer for me. Tell me what day to be here. I'll pay in cash."

"Will do," Wren says quietly, looking hesitant as he glances down at the number. He watches as Alison hitches her purse higher on her shoulder and stalks toward the door. Just after she's out of sight of the camera, he tenses his shoulders and calls, "Just remember to think this through, Alison. An abortion is a very big decision to make."

The screen goes black, but I continue to stare. My eyes have gone dry and I'm aware that I need to blink, but my brain feels incapable of even carrying out that simple movement.

 _Abortion._

I slowly shut the laptop and turn to face my sister. I should have a million questions, but I can only think of one. "Why – "

"I don't know why Jenna had that video, or why she gave it to me," Mona says grimly, reading my mind. "But apparently it's important enough that she thought I needed to see it."

I lean forward and rest my elbow on the table, grimacing a little as the floodgates in my brain finally open. Questions and inconsistencies start to rush through my head, too quickly for me to collect my thoughts. She sits back, watching me process this until I finally announce the obvious. "Alison was pregnant."

Mona nods, looking down, and I suddenly realize why I'm having trouble connecting the dots. "But wait, the – the diary entries," I stammer, waving my hands in front of my face like that's going to help me figure this out. "She wrote that she just had a pregnancy _scare_ in Cape May, that she wasn't actually – "

"She wasn't. This was different."

I wrinkle my nose, my hands falling back into my lap. "How can you tell?"

"Hold on." Mona opens the computer again and restarts the video, pausing before Ali even enters the office. She presses a few keys and the screen zooms in, focusing in on a poster on the wall. A few more clever keystrokes and the words on the poster become sharp and clear – ST. PETER'S HOSPITAL SLEEP STUDY.

"I've been looking into this since I got out of Welby," my sister says, studying the screen intently. There's an expression of intensity on her face that makes me a little uneasy. "It's a hospital a few hours outside of Pittsburgh…one that thankfully didn't encrypt their online patient records very well."

I perk up, raising my eyebrows. "You found Alison's file?"

She nods and pulls the laptop closer. I can't see what she's doing, but a few moments later she turns it back around to face me. The video on the screen has been replaced by a PDF file, titled "DARKBLOOM, VIVIAN."

I lean closer, squinting to read the small, crammed blocky print. I skim over her personal information, all fake, of course, focusing on her records. She did come to this hospital to have an abortion, and the date of the procedure is listed under the unfamiliar name of the doctor who performed it.

"January 18, 2010," I gasp. "This happened after Alison disappeared."

"She really was pregnant that summer," Mona confirms, looking at me darkly. "But she went to Cape May in June. She would've been too far along for an abortion by January. This had to have happened a few months later."

My leg twitches under the table. I leap up, pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. "This is… _insane._ Oh my god, what do we do about this?"

She stands as well, crossing her arms and looking thoughtfully toward the window. "Well, obviously the first question is who took this video, and why is it important?"

"Who was the father?" I add, leaning against the kitchen counter. "And why did Ali keep this a secret?"

"Maybe she didn't. Maybe she just didn't tell _us._ "

"Possible," I say with a shrug, just as my phone chimes. I grab it off of the counter and glance at Hanna's message on the screen.

 _Come to the barn as soon as you get this. It's important._

"That's weird," I blurt out, checking the time on my phone. It's after eleven at night. What could be going on now?

Mona looks up from where she'd been analyzing Alison's medical file once again. "What?"

"I've been summoned to Spencer's barn," I answer, rolling my eyes and grabbing my purse from where I dumped it on the chair by the door. "And you're coming with me. Let's go."

…

The barn is completely lit up when we walk around the side of the Hastings' house ten minutes later. The front door is open, so I walk right in, my sister at my heels. A crowd awaits us: Emily and Alison are sitting on the couch, clutching each other's hands. Aria is perched on the arm beside them, and Ezra is standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder. Hanna and Caleb are huddled close together by the fireplace, and Spencer is a few feet away from them, her eyes on her phone. Everyone is either staring at the ground or shooting glances at each other, their foreheads creased and their mouths turned down.

It's not a pretty picture, and my stomach turns.

"Hi?" I say uncertainly when no one looks up.

Eyes turn toward me, and then slightly to my left. Hanna steps forward. Emily's brow furrows even more. Aria pales, and Spencer's mouth drops open. Caleb looks a little like he's about to breathe fire.

Mona tenses, looking both defensive and unsure. "Hi," she says quietly, and I realize that aside from Hanna, this is the first any of them have seen her since that night at the Lost Woods.

"Um," Spencer says with a disbelieving laugh, looking at a loss for words.

"Viola," Emily says slowly, half-standing and then lowering herself back down. "I don't know if…" She trails off uncomfortably. Alison squeezes her hand, shifting in her seat. I want to pin her against the wall and demand answers about the video I just saw. All of the unknowns are beginning to drive me crazy, especially this late at night.

But just as it seems like Emily is getting the courage to continue, Caleb throws out his arms and yells, "What the hell is she doing here?"

" _She_ is standing right here," Mona says, narrowing her eyes. All of the hesitation is long gone now. "And you can like me or not, Caleb, but I'm not going anywhere."

"Whatever," Spencer bursts out, much to my surprise, considering she's usually one of my sister's biggest dissenters. "There's something – "

"You know what? No," Caleb cuts her off. He stalks over to us, his face contorted with anger.

Hanna steps toward him. "Caleb – "

"No," he says again, whirling around to face her. "Look, I agreed to you driving her to appointments because I was trying to be _understanding._ But showing up here, getting all involved in our business again? No way. No _freaking_ way."

I can feel my anger beginning to boil over – I get that he and Mona have had their problems in the past, but does he really have to have this temper tantrum _every time_ he's in the same room as her? – and force it down with the most condescending smile I can muster, because sometimes, even in stressful situations, I like to have a little fun. "What's wrong? You miss your nap today or something?"

He looks between the two of us for a second, his face reddening. "I don't even get why you were invited over here," he says heatedly to me, then juts his chin in my sister's direction, "but _she_ wasn't, and I'm not dealing with this again. If she won't leave, I will. Come on." He grabs Hanna's hand and tugs her toward the door to the barn. "Let's get out of here."

Hanna stands firm, pulling her arm away. "Caleb, no. Just play nice, alright? Spencer's right. This is important."

I wonder once again with a flutter of nerves what I was actually called here to discuss, but my eyes are on Caleb as he reels back, staring at Hanna. He flits his gaze over to Mona for a brief second, then looks back and shakes his head. "I'll see you at home," he mutters, and lets the door bang shut behind him.

A terse silence falls over the room. I wring my hands together behind my back, unsettled. Jesus. Three months of marriage and this is how it's going? The husband storming out over a petty high school grudge, leaving his wife behind, twisting her wedding ring anxiously around her finger?

Spencer clears her throat and breaks the silence. "Um, you know, maybe…maybe he's right. Viola, I'm sorry, but I'm not so sure if…"

She trails off and I scowl. I'm getting really sick of everyone leaving their uncomfortable sentences unfinished. Mona opens her mouth, clearly ready to retort, but I beat her to it, linking our arms together and snapping, "Listen, I already filled her in on everything that's going on." I almost bring up the text, but glance at Alison and decide to keep that to myself, at least for now. "We're a package deal. Either tell us both to get out, or accept Mona's help."

"I'd go with the second option," she adds smoothly, giving me a quick, appreciative smile. "I've saved your collective asses before and it's a safe bet I'll be able to do it again."

Spencer's mouth twists into a pinched frown. "Whoa, whoa, wait a – "

Alison suddenly stands, lacing her hands together over her stomach. Emily gazes up at her attentively, in that same concerned puppy dog way she's looked at her since she found out about the pregnancy, and my gut twinges with sympathy for her. I'd just been starting to come around to the idea of Ali and Emily's relationship, but she deserves better than being lied to for weeks on end…especially about something like this.

I look at Ali with narrowed eyes, sure she's going to point both my sister and myself toward the door, but she smiles shakily and cuts Spencer off. "Stay. Both of you."

Emily jumps to her feet as well. "Ali…" she murmurs, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"We need their help," Alison replies firmly. She smiles at me, more confidently this time, then gives Mona a meaningful look. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to get over what you did to Charlotte. I get why you did it, and I know it was an accident, but…she was the only family I had left. But I'm trying."

My sister smiles back at her and lowers her gaze, looking kind of uncomfortable. I know how she feels. Every time I look at Ali these days, I just find myself more confused than ever. I've never known what to make of that girl, but this is a whole new level of conflicted feelings.

Aria sighs, jiggling her foot nervously against the floor. "Can we move on now, please?" Ezra squeezes her shoulder, nodding. I realize that he hasn't said one word since we got here. It's refreshing, but kind of strange coming from him.

Hanna shoots one more wistful look toward the door that Caleb slammed, but shakes her head and mumbles, "Yeah."

"Okay, can someone just tell us what's going on?" I burst out, anxious all over again as their expressions morph back into subdued fear. "You're all kind of starting to freak me out."

Mona folds her arms. "Is it A.D.?"

Spencer clutches her phone between both hands and steps forward. Her face has gone pale. "No. It's Mary. She broke out of prison tonight."


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you as always to everyone who left reviews on the latest chapter! A few of you asked about Toby. He's not with Yvonne, she's dead in this story as well since all events up through 7x19 are canon. Since he and Spencer aren't in a relationship at this point I felt it would be awkward to include him in group scenes with the Liars and their love interests. He will be appearing a bit later on in the story, though!

I appreciate all feedback. Please continue to let me know what you think! This may not be the longest chapter, but it definitely contains some bombshells!

* * *

Chapter 7

The next morning, I'm wiping down the mysteriously sticky countertop behind the register when a coffee cup held by a very well-manicured hand thumps down in my line of vision. "When you said you couldn't drive Mona to Welby this morning because you had to go to work at the Brew, I thought you were joking," Hanna says, cocking an eyebrow at the rag in my hand.

I push my hair out of my face and grin. "Nope. I'm living the dream."

She wrinkles her nose, gazing around like this is a garbage dump and not the place where she and her friends spent just about every morning in high school. "Why do you need to work here?"

"Because money doesn't grow on trees, and there isn't exactly a market for social workers around here," I reply. A woman carrying a Chanel bag that's about as big as she is steps up behind Hanna, and I tilt my head toward her. "Hanna."

"Oh," she says, glancing back at the customer but not moving. "Wait, when do you go on break?"

I check my watch. "About twenty minutes."

"I'll wait," she declares, and stalks over to the other end of the room.

I serve a few more coffee orders, words like _espresso shot_ and _drip_ and _light roast_ running through my head as I desperately try not to make a mistake on my third day on the job. Once I hand the last order to a harried looking businessman in a rumpled shirt and slightly stained tie, I stuff my apron behind the counter and join Hanna by the bookshelves.

"So," I say under my breath, sliding into the chair across the table from her, "any news on Mary?"

Hanna sets down her phone and glances over her shoulder, then shakes her head. "Nothing. Spencer's a wreck. I offered to stay with her last night but she said she didn't want her pacing to keep _me_ up."

The hair on the back of my neck rises. I feel like I'm back in high school all over again, peering over my shoulder at every turn. First A.D. is back out in the world, and now Mary. What next, is Archer Dunhill going to rise from his grave? Am I going to find the board game sitting my living room when I get home?

"Do you think she escaped, or…?" I trail off, gesturing vaguely.

I'm not even really sure where I was going with that, but Hanna seems to get it. "All they told Spencer is that when they did ten o'clock rounds, her cell door was open and the window at the end of the hall was broken."

"I mean, I know she turned herself in so you guys wouldn't go down for it," I whisper, wiping off a smudge on the table with my thumb, "but maybe she decided prison wasn't worth it. Maybe she couldn't take it anymore and just…fled."

"So you think this has nothing to do with us? That she's just gonna disappear out of our lives forever?" Hanna snorts. "God, I wish I had your optimism."

"Well, after what she did for you guys at least we can be relatively sure that she's not a bad person," I try to reason. "So if she broke out on her own will, she's probably not going to come after any of us."

Hanna taps her nails against the table, looking distressed. Then she raises her eyes to mine and asks quietly, "But what if she didn't?"

I swallow hard and look away. It wouldn't be the first time that an A managed to break into the county prison. But actually breaking someone _out?_ Is that even possible?

You'd think I'd know better than to ask that question by now.

But I promised Mona that I wouldn't bring up A.D. to any of the girls, so I clear my throat and change the subject. "How, um…did you work things out with Caleb last night?"

Hanna smiles thinly, but she won't meet my eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, um, everything's…everything's fine." She hesitates, then adds, "I'm sorry about…you know, what he said. He was way out of line."

"It's not your fault," I say immediately, half-smiling in return. "I get that he and Mona will always hate each other, I just wish he could keep those thoughts to himself once in a while. It's getting kind of old, you know?"

Hanna raises her eyebrows and nods. She looks irritated, although I have a feeling it's not with me. "Trust me, I do. But it really wasn't even about you guys. Honestly, he was in a bad mood before Spencer even texted us to come over."

I know it's none of my business, but I'm so relieved to be talking about something not related to A – something _normal –_ that I lean my elbows on the table and frown. "Is everything okay with you guys?"

She's silent for a long moment, picking quietly at her manicure. I study her face, but I can't read her expression. "You don't have to tell me," I blurt out quickly, feeling my face flush. What was I thinking? Hanna may have been like family once, but that was a long time ago. There's no way she's going to start spilling all of her marital problems to me now, not after everything.

But to my surprise, she lifts her eyes and sighs. "No, it's fine. It's just, Caleb…he's been talking about having a baby."

My eyes widen. "Oh. Wow." I picture Hanna holding a newborn, a little baby girl wearing a pink bow headband. It's actually a cute image. Then I picture the baby spitting up all over the front of one of her custom-made dresses and think I understand why she's not smiling now. "And, um…you're not…you're not into the idea?"

"I don't know," Hanna admits, running her finger along a groove in the wooden table. "I've always daydreamed about the two of us having all these beautiful babies, and they'd wear clothes I designed for them while Caleb taught them how to be all techy, but…"

I grin at the picture she's painted, but my smile fades when I see just how conflicted she looks. This is clearly something she's been struggling with for a while. "The reality doesn't seem so glamorous?" I suggest gently.

She stretches her left hand out flat on the table, gazing down at her wedding ring. "I want to focus on my career," she declares suddenly, her voice strong. "I came so far with Lucas a few months ago, I can't…just throw all that away."

"Then you need to tell _him_ that," I insist, covering her hand with my own. "You're only twenty-four. You guys have plenty of time for kids. And if Caleb really loves you, he'll understand. He can wait."

Hanna smiles sadly, blinking back a few tears. Then she squeezes my hand. "Thanks."

"Let me know how things go," I say, and rise, glancing at the clock by the bookshelves. "I have to get back to work."

Hanna gets up as well, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Yeah, it's almost noon," she says in her usual light, careless tone, all traces of those complex emotions gone from her face. "I should head back out to Welby."

"You're a lifesaver!" I yell over my shoulder as I slip back behind the front counter.

Aside from a few teenage girls giggling over one of their phones across the room, the Brew is empty, so I pull out my phone as I brace myself for the oncoming lunch rush.

The screen lights up with a text from my sister from this morning, after I left for work but before Hanna picked her up for therapy. It's a photo with no accompanying message. I open it, wondering if I even want to know.

It's a screenshot of the board of directors list from St. Peter's Hospital's website. I roll my eyes. Why can't Mona ever just give it a rest? But after glancing up to make sure no customers are waiting, I turn away from the counter and scan over the list of names.

It takes me a few moments to make the connection, because no name immediately jumps out at me. But then I focus on one in particular, about a third of the way down, and realize that it's familiar.

 _Dianne Fitzgerald._

…

"Okay, can I just say again that I'm really, _really_ not comfortable with this? You realize that if we get caught, we're screwed, right? You're not allowed to get a job right now and it's not like anyone else in this town is going to hire me if they found out I stole from my boss."

"Oh, calm down, Viola," Mona says dismissively, leaning against the counter as I pull out the little drawer from behind the desk and begin rooting through the nearly identical-looking keys inside. "You're not stealing anything. You're going to put it right back."

I give her an annoyed look, locating the spare key to the loft above the Brew and folding my hand around it. "Whatever, it's still a crime. How are you so sure Ezra or Aria isn't going to come home and catch us, anyway?"

She swipes the key from my hand and heads for the stairs leading to the loft without hesitation. "I don't think we'll have to worry about them," she says in a singsong.

I grab her arm. "Oh my God, what did you do?"

"Don't pop a blood vessel, they're fine. I happened to find out that the two lovebirds went looking at honeymoon suites at the Radley tonight. I can turn the power back on in the elevator as soon as we're finished."

I shake my head, trying frantically, as usual, to keep up with her quick, vague way of speaking. Once I come to terms with the idea of Aria and Ezra trapped in the hotel's elevator, Mona has pushed open the apartment's door.

I put my hand out to stop her from going inside, panicking again. "Wait. Are you absolutely sure about this? There are probably a million Dianne Fitzgerald's in the world. How do you know this one's Ezra's mother?"

My sister sighs like she just can't believe she has to deal with this. "I did a lot more research than just that one website, Viola. I found pictures, donations. It's her." Without waiting for a response she saunters into the loft, so I take a deep breath and follow, still unsure about this.

The apartment is much neater than the messy bachelor pad I broke into several times while on the A team in high school – Aria's influence, I assume. But the same clunky typewriter sits on the desk in the corner, the same old couches take up the center of the room, and the same old literature posters are still taped to the walls.

"God, they really are perfect for each other," I mutter. Pretentiousness is practically coming off of this place in waves. "Okay, what are we looking for, anyway?"

"Nothing specific," Mona says slowly, opening the top dresser drawer and beginning to root around expertly. "Just anything that might link Ezra to the good doctor."

"I'm what your psychiatrist would probably call an 'enabler,'" I say, only half-joking, and walk over to the desk. I kneel down in front of it and pull out the bottom drawer. "Aria lives here too, remember?" I go on as I lift out a stack of what appear to be old, dusty screenplays. "If Ezra had some shady connection to Wren back then, do you really think he'd keep record of it where she could find it?"

"You never saw the amount of research that Ezra accumulated," she replies immediately, clearly having given this some thought. "There's no way he got rid of every page. All we need is one little scrap that proves Ezra's still lying about that summer, and we might be able to shut this thing down before it even really starts again."

I scrunch up my nose as I replace the screenplays and move on to the next drawer, sliding it open cautiously. It's only a matter of time before I come across something I really don't need to see. "So you think Ezra's A.D.?" I ask, rifling through what appears to be a pile of random junk.

"I think Jenna gave me that video for a reason."

"I mean, I guess. But we know that Ezra and Ali were having a fling that summer, so it's not that unreasonable to think that…" The weight of my obliviousness hits me somewhere around the word "summer," and I trail off, blurting out instead of finishing the thought, "Ezra was the father, wasn't he?"

"Wow, hun, you sure catch on quick," Mona says under her breath, still feeling around inside the dresser drawers.

I chew on my lip, lost in thought as I lower myself down onto the edge of the bed. Then I realize where I am and leap back to my feet with a little yelp. _Ick._ "That would explain why Alison never told anyone," I say shakily, suddenly feeling uncomfortable even being in this room. "She was fifteen, that's sick."

"Yes, we're all very disgusted by Ezra here, but unless you want both him and Aria to spend the night in an elevator, keep looking," my sister says sharply.

I roll my eyes but kneel down and move aside the edge of the bedspread. The bed is high enough off of the ground that I can push myself partway underneath. I do so, holding my breath in the presence of a few socks that look like they haven't seen the light since before Ezra went to South America.

There's nothing hidden under the mattress frame and everything strewn around the floor seems like mostly debris, and I'm about to scoot back out and let out a breath when I notice something hanging down above me. I frown and reach out for it. It's a crumpled piece of paper, jammed between the mattress and the wall. As I dislodge it, I get the feeling that this wasn't hidden here purposefully. It seems like the kind of thing that slipped through the crack long ago and hasn't been seen since.

I heave myself out from under the bed and sit up, glancing at the paper disinterestedly, expecting a stupid poem or a grocery list or something.

"What's that?" my sister asks, glancing over.

"Nothing, just…whoa."

Mona rushes over and kneels down beside me, but I barely notice. My eyes are glued to the paper in my hand as I read over and over the words written in neat, slanted handwriting.

 _Ian – Spencer and Hanna_

 _Garrett – Emily and Aria_

 _Jason – X_

"What the hell is this?" I ask, waving the paper.

She grabs it from me and stares down at it, then looks back up at me with widening eyes. "It's the N.A.T Club."


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you guys so much for all of the great feedback on the last chapter! I'm so glad that a lot of you were excited by the introduction of the N.A.T. Club's involvement last chapter - I couldn't believe it ended up being so meaningless in the show so I had to incorporate it! Please keep letting me know what you think! This is a long one, but everything in it is very relevant.

Chapter 8

"Alright." Corey claps his hands together, beaming broadly. "I think that's just about it for the grand tour. I must say, not _the_ most impressive facilities I've ever seen, but apparently it's really come a long way over these last few years. Overall I see some real potential here."

"Mmm," I murmur vaguely, tuning back in just in time to hear his last two or so words. It's a risky strategy, but one that's become essential over the course of the past two hours. There are only so many facts about heart disease, arteries, and the latest technology in defibrillators one person can take before a coping mechanism becomes necessary.

For some reason Corey didn't seem surprised at all when I called him and asked if he'd mind if I stopped by and visited him at the hospital some day – almost as if he'd thought his behavior at dinner the other night had been _charming._ I'd known what I would be getting myself into, but I've needed an excuse to find my way into the hospital, and spending more time with Corey Davidson sounds just marginally more appealing than cutting off one of my fingers or giving myself lead poisoning or something.

"Viola," Corey says suddenly, and I realize that I've been gazing toward the elevator across the hall from his office, not hearing a word he's saying. He raps me on the side of the head. "Anyone home in there?"

I guess that was supposed to be a joke, so I force a smile. "Sorry. Just a lot to take in."

"It's very specific work. Certainly not everyone's cut out for it," he responds loudly, and before my jaw can even drop at the implications of that statement, he's going on, "As fantastic a second date as this was, I'm afraid I've gotta get back. I've got some records to go through before I have some of my first appointments. Can I call you?"

"Uh-huh," I choke out, and manage not to gag as he leans down and kisses me on the cheek. I wipe it off as soon as he turns back to his office.

I study the directory posted on the wall beside the elevator. Doctors' names are listed, with their office numbers, for each floor.

And there it is, floor three, office three hundred twelve. _Dr. Wren Kingston, MD._

My stomach swirls with nerves as I ride the elevator down two floors and make my way down a few short, tiled hallways. Though this section of the building is primarily doctor's offices and rooms for various medical tests, I'm flooded with memories of the last time I was in this hospital – the days right after the dollhouse.

I pause outside the door marked with Wren's name, swear to myself that I'm not going to let anything like that ever happen again, and push my way inside.

I step into a small reception area, deserted aside from a woman with bright red lips sitting behind the counter. She smiles as I approach. "Hi," I say with as much confidence as I can muster. "I'm here to see Dr. Kingston."

She raises a pair of severe-looking eyebrows. "Do you have an appointment?"

I was prepared for this question. "Oh, no, I'm not here to see him as a doctor. We're friends from years ago, I was hoping I'd be able to sneak back and say hi."

She tilts her head, looking like she's not quite sure what to make of me. "I really don't think that's – "

"I'll be glad to wait if I have to," I cut in quickly, hoping my voice doesn't give away any desperation. If I can get all the information I need out of Wren today, I can delete Corey's number from my phone and never have to speak to him again.

"He has a break for lunch in fifteen minutes," the receptionist says finally, with obvious reluctance. "I'll see if he's willing to speak to you then."

"Thank you," I breathe, and twenty minutes later am walking down a short, narrow hallway and into a small office.

Wren is sitting behind an oak desk, bent over a laptop, his eyes narrowed in concentration. His face looks almost exactly the same as it did six years ago, but his shaved head momentarily takes me aback.

I clear my throat awkwardly and he looks up, his face blank with zero recognition. "Um, hi," I say, taking a cautious step into the room. "I don't know if you remember me, I'm Viola Vanderwaal, I, um – "

He closes his laptop immediately and stands. "Ah, of course. Mona's little sister. We used to speak when you visited her at Radley."

I remember that, but I'm surprised to learn that he does, too. I wonder if that's a good or bad thing. "Right. You…you helped me out a lot."

"I'm glad to hear it," he replies, smiling, but then tilts his head at me. "So what brings you here?"

I push the door closed gently. "I could ask you the same thing," I say calmly. I decided in the elevator that I didn't want to beat around the bush – I'm going to get all the information I can and get out of here. "Why the sudden move back here?"

Wren stares at me for a moment, his expression going from pleasant to guarded. I steel myself. Maybe this wasn't the best strategy. "I'm not quite sure what you're trying to imply," he says, his voice low.

"I just think it's funny," I respond, leaning forward and resting my elbows on the back of the chair in front of the desk, "that you up and left your established life in London to run back to little old Rosewood. Does anyone else know you're here? Spencer?"

"I have no ulterior motives, if that's what you're getting at," Wren answers after a long pause. "Is there something you want from me, Viola?"

Not believing him for a moment, I take a breath and pull a folded piece of paper out of my purse. "I stumbled across something the other day, and I think you might be able to help explain it to me."

I hand him the printout of Alison's – or, I suppose, _Vivian's –_ abortion record. Then I fold my arms and watch his face carefully as he examines it. "Sorry," he mutters after a moment, shaking his head. "Is this supposed to mean something to me? Vivian…Darkbloom?"

"Also known as Alison DiLaurentis," I reply, raising my eyebrows. "But you'd already know that, since you were the one who set up the procedure."

The change in his expression is subtle, but I've gotten pretty good at noticing the signs over the years. Widened eyes, a slightly opened mouth, skin going just a shade paler. He knows exactly what I'm talking about, and he's nervous.

"Don't bother lying," I add quickly, just in case. "It's all on video."

Wren strides past me and locks the door in one swift movement. I take a step back, caught off-guard. "What are you talking about?" he asks in a low voice, tipping his chin down. "What is on video?"

"You are," I answer. My back bumps into the desk. "You and Alison, the winter after she went missing. You connected her to a doctor who could give her an abortion."

Wren is silent for so long that I begin to fidget, losing a little of my confidence. Is it possible that Mona and I got this all wrong? Maybe we misinterpreted the video somehow, as obvious as it seemed. Or maybe Jenna really is behind all of this, and sent us some kind of edited video to shift our suspicions away from her.

But then Wren closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Where is the video?"

My heart lurches and I force myself to stay calm. Perhaps I'm finally going to get somewhere. "It's someplace safe," I say, choosing my words carefully.

"Who all has seen it?"

I hesitate, then, deciding to leave my sister out of this, blurt out, "No one. And I'm not going to tell you how I got it. I just want to know what the deal is. Something…kind of _weird_ is going on and anything that you can tell me might help me figure everything out."

He blinks, clearly unsettled by my vaguely disturbing description. I clasp my hands behind my back and lean against the desk, hoping he's not going to ask for details that I can't – or won't – provide.

But after a beat he moves to sit back behind his desk. He leans forward and begins, "I was a med student at St. Peter's Hospital. I had only been at the facility for a few months, barely anyone on the staff even knew my name. And then one day just after I finished my rounds, a pretty young blonde girl showed up in the lobby, asking to speak to me."

I sink down into the chair opposite him as he continues, "I don't know how she found me. But from the moment I laid eyes on her, I was…"

He hesitates, clearly struggling to find the words, so I hold out my hands and offer, "Charmed?"

He shakes his head and laughs humorlessly. "Exactly. She was the most charming person I've ever come across. And by the time I found out what she really wanted with me, I was under her spell."

 _You and every other man in Rosewood,_ I think, resisting the urge to either roll my eyes or gag. "She asked you to convince a doctor to give her an abortion," I say for clarification, glancing at my phone, nestled in the pocket of my bag, and wishing I'd thought to set it to record before I walked in here.

"She had a fake identity all set up. Vivian Darkbloom, a nineteen-year-old college student. All I had to do was speak to a colleague about squeezing in an appointment as soon as possible."

"Did you have anything to do with her after that?"

He averts his eyes, twirling a pen between his fingers. "It's like I said, she was using me. Once the procedure was complete she vanished."

I sit back in the chair, considering this. It's a believable story…except one thing. "Wait. Alison went missing just four months before this happened. Her picture was plastered all over the news. How did you not recognize her?"

He shrugs. "I'd spent the summer visiting family in London. I suppose by the time I returned to the States, the news had calmed down. I wasn't aware that Vivian was really Alison until I happened to see a news report on the anniversary of her disappearance."

All of that makes total sense. It really does seem like Wren was just another pawn that Ali used to get what she wanted. It's an answer, but I feel oddly disappointed. If he was just a little more involved in this whole thing, just had a little more information to offer, I could be one step closer to finding out who A.D. is. But as it is, all I know is that Jenna did not, in fact, somehow create a fake video recording.

"Thanks for explaining," I mutter, biting my lip. "Just…one more thing. Did she say anything about the baby's father?"

"You mean who it was?" Wren asks, raising his eyebrows, and my heart lifts. "No. She was extremely secretive about the whole situation. And considering the circumstances at the time, I can't say I blame her. I didn't even know her actual name, let alone anyone else's."

I close my eyes for a moment and sigh, pushing down frustration. At least I know exactly how Wren was involved in this mess. I push the chair back and stand. "Thanks. Sorry I just barged in on you like this."

"My pleasure," he replies, getting to his feet as well. I head for the door but he clears his throat just as I'm reaching for the knob. "Viola, this all took place over eight years ago. Why is this suddenly of interest to you?"

I freeze. I wasn't prepared for this question, but there's no way I can tell him the truth. The more people who know about A.D., the bigger the risk. This game has always been about secrecy, and it's already making me nervous that the guys know about it. Getting Wren – or anyone else, for that matter – involved could be a colossal mistake.

"Like I said, there's kind of something going on," I answer slowly, choosing my words with caution. "But I'm trying to take care of it, and what you just told me might really help."

"Wait – " he blurts out, his brow wrinkled in obvious confusion, but I push open the door and slip into the hall before he can ask anything more.

I hurry back toward the elevator, peeking around corners just in case Corey happens to be in the vicinity. It's when I'm doing this that I notice a brunette woman slipping out of sight.

It's nothing, I'm sure, but this hallway is otherwise deserted, and as soon as I spot her I feel a pit drop into my stomach. Instead of turning toward the elevators, I take off after her, darting around the corner.

It's a dead end, and I'm faced with a water fountain, two Coca Cola vending machines, and Spencer, who is trying and failing to look casual.

"Spencer," I exclaim, taking her in. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" Her eyes dart back and forth for a moment, as if looking for an escape. Apparently she doesn't see one, because she lets out a breath, her arms falling to her sides. "Alright, fine. I was following you."

I'm not surprised, but I still wince at the twinge of disappointment in my gut. It feels like it's endlessly back and forth with these girls. One minute they're inviting me into the inner circle, keeping me informed about A and Mary and whatever else is going on. And the next they're following me around like it's my junior year and they just caught me in a black hoodie.

"Seriously?" I burst out, folding my arms. "After everything, you _seriously_ still don't trust me? I'm getting pretty sick of constantly having to prove myself to you guys."

Spencer brushes her bangs out of her eyes. "I thought we were past this, too. But now I'm not so sure."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

She walks past me back down to the end of the hallway and glances back and forth. Then she looks up, presumably scouring the ceiling for any sign of security cameras. Finally, seemingly satisfied, she pulls out her phone. "I woke up this morning to this text," she says, and hands it to me.

 _A certain little sister's keeping secrets. –A.D._

The message is followed by a map of Rosewood. A red dot, labeled _Viola's Phone,_ is located directly on top of the hospital that we're currently standing inside. I shove Spencer's phone back at her, my hand immediately going to my own cell, tucked in my purse. So A's been tracking my phone. Awesome.

But at least all they seem to know is that I'm at the hospital in general. It's not like there's any definite proof that it was that assumed-N.A.T video that brought me here, or that I was just pressing Wren for answers.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer asks firmly, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I was just angry with her for what I assumed to be a lack of trust, but even so, the lie spills out anyway. "I've been seeing a guy who just started working here. I came by to see him."

"Oh, please," Spencer scoffs, and I cringe at the obviousness of my own lie. Why couldn't it have been Emily or Aria who followed me here, someone a little easier to fool than a Hastings? "I saw you coming out of Wren's office. I didn't even know he was back in town." She steps toward me, her voice lowering. "You need to tell me what's going on, Viola, and you need to tell me now."

I reel back, caught off-guard by her intensity and a little offended, despite myself. "I hope you're not suggesting that _I_ have anything to do with A.D.," I snap. "Why would I send you that message if I did?"

"I'm not suggesting that," Spencer replies, her voice softening the smallest bit, but I'm not convinced. Her eyes are still narrowed at me suspiciously. "But until you can explain to me why you're sneaking off to see Wren, I don't know what else to think."

I exhale slowly, resigning. I have a feeling she's not going to accept "because we're old, close friends" as an explanation. What I'm about to do is really going to make my sister mad, but I have no choice. It's time to tell the truth. "Alright, I can explain everything. But not here."

…

It's a relief that Spencer follows me home in her own car, because even the minute-long walk down the hall to the door to my apartment is filled with tension. Spencer watches me shiftily as I swing open the door and step inside, as though concerned I'm going to suddenly pull out a rope and tie her up or something.

Maybe once I finally fill her in on what's been going on since my apartment was trashed, she'll get it out of her mind that I'm up to no good.

I shoot a quick glance around the room, checking, as I always do now when I enter, for anything suspicious. Nothing seems to be out of place, but my eyes do skim over my sister, who's sitting in the chair beside the TV with her knees pulled up to her chest.

"Hey," I say distractedly, noting only briefly as I rush inside that this is kind of odd. "Spencer's here, I ended up having to tell her about…the…" I finally pause and take a breath, my words trailing off when I realize that Mona's not even paying attention to what I'm saying. She's staring straight ahead, her eyes wide and her face pale.

Visions of that night at the Lost Woods instantly flashing through my mind, I shoot a quick glance back at Spencer, who's standing awkwardly near the door with her hands in her pockets, and clear my throat. "Are you okay?"

I get nothing in response, and my chest tightens. "Sis," I say more intently, leaning down a little and reaching out to touch her arm.

As soon as my hand makes contact she gasps and startles, her legs dropping back to the ground and her hand flying to her chest. "Oh my god, I can't – I can't breathe."

"She's having a panic attack," Spencer says quietly, taking a few steps closer, just as I make that connection for myself.

My heart is still beating wildly with anxiety, but at least it's not catatonia this time. One of the doctors at Welby told me this kind of thing could happen, that random panic attacks and outbursts are common in the months after a breakdown as severe as the one my sister experienced.

I know how to deal with this, but I still take a moment to close my eyes and compose myself before I reach out and grab her wrists. "Hey," I say firmly, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "Hey, Mona, look at me. You're fine, okay? You're _fine."_

"No," Mona says vehemently, shaking her head and pressing a hand to her chest. There are tears in her eyes. "You don't understand – you don't understand what's going on – "

The tone of her voice is almost prophetic. I repress a shiver of unease and squeeze myself into the chair beside her, hugging her tightly. "Stop. Everything's fine. Just breathe, it's okay. It's okay."

I rub my sister's back gently and glance up at Spencer again. She's taking all of this in with an unreadable expression, not looking particularly sympathetic, but not visibly annoyed or indifferent, either. I shoot her a shaky, apologetic smile, glad that at least she's not trying to assist me. Helping someone out of a panic attack is hard enough without another person intervening.

It takes another five minutes, but eventually Mona begins to calm down, leaning back and exhaling. "I'm…I'm sorry," she mutters, looking anywhere but at Spencer. "That hasn't happened since they changed my meds."

"Don't apologize, it's no big deal. You should probably let your doctor know the next time you have an appointment, though," I reply, smoothing down her hair. "Did it just happen out of nowhere?"

She meets my eyes only briefly before looking away, lifting her head from my shoulder and standing. "You know what, it's not even worth talking about. I'm just going to lie down for a while and I'll be good as new. Spencer," she adds in greeting, nodding at the taller girl as she walks into her room.

"Good idea, get some rest," I say faintly, frowning as she shuts the door behind her with a slam.

Spencer immediately crosses the room toward me, folding her arms. Her brow is furrowed and I feel my face flush with sudden embarrassment. "Well," I mumble with a weak laugh, "that was new. I'm, uh, sorry you had to be here for that."

"It's fine. Just not really the Mona I'm used to seeing," she says, gazing around the room as if searching for answers. "Has that happened recently?"

"Not since she's been out of Welby," I answer, leaning against the kitchen counter. "But anxiety attacks are a pretty common side effect of a lot of antipsychotics. It was probably just a random thing."

Spencer pauses and licks her lips. Then she looks at me with a frown. "But what if it wasn't? What if something happened to trigger it?"

Her voice is dark. I think of that text from A.D., about not getting away with murder, and my stomach turns over. "I don't know." I swallow hard and shoot a quick glance around the apartment. Everything seems to be in place, but I still file that possibility away and resolve to ask my sister about it once she's feeling better.

"Okay," Spencer says after a moment of silence. She walks around to stand beside me. "You said you had something to show me?"

The video. Right. "Yes." I hurry to grab my laptop from my bedroom and set it on the counter. "It's a video, and I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure it was taken by the N.A.T. Club."

Spencer's eyes widen as I open the computer and begin clicking through folders. Once Mona sent me a copy of it from the flash drive, I hid it as deep in my files as I could. " _What?_ As in, Ian, Garrett, and Jason's little high school perv club?"

"It seems like it might have been more than that," I answer quickly, clicking on the folder labeled "other," where I'm absolutely positive I stored the video a few days ago.

 _This folder is empty._

My heart drops like a stone into my stomach. It's gone. Or, at least, it's not where I left it. I begin clicking frantically back through other folders, made up of old papers from college, saved research articles, and drafts of resumes. My face must give away at least some of my panic, because Spencer leans her elbows on the table and raises her eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

"It's not here," I gasp, stepping back from the laptop and staring at it in shock. This is _impossible._ "The video's gone."


	9. Chapter 9

Wow, I didn't realize it had been quite a while since I updated. Sorry for the long wait, with school starting up again I've been extremely busy, but hopefully updates will become more regular now that the first week is about over! Thank you so so much to everyone who reviewed - your feedback is very much appreciated, as usual. As far as answering some questions, I don't really want to get into anything plot-specific because that might give away too much as far as who is involved and who isn't, but I will say, because I got a few comments about this, that that was indeed Spencer in the last chapter! I am saying with 100% honesty that there will be no twins, Alex or otherwise, in this story.

As far as length, right now I'm shooting for about twenty chapters, but I suppose I'll have to see how things progress. Sometimes what I write surprises even me!

Once again, please let me know what you think! With this stressful semester coming up I'm going to need motivation to keep working and proofing! I hope you all enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 9

I feel like I'm going to throw up as I take coffee orders at work the next morning. As a matter of fact, I've felt that way since yesterday, since my discovery that someone not only managed to wipe the video of Ali and Wren from my laptop, but also most likely _saw_ the contents of it in the process.

It's been difficult to resign myself to the fact that if A.D. didn't know about Alison's teenage pregnancy and her connection with Wren before this, they do now. And even worse, they know that _I_ know about it.

Once I got over my panic over the missing recording yesterday, I explained everything to Spencer. Mona's message from A.D., the contents of the video that Jenna gave her in Welby, the note in Ezra's apartment that seemed to refer to the N.A.T. Club. She seemed to believe me, and promised to keep the information a secret, especially from Alison, but she didn't seem convinced. And if I know anything about these girls by now, it's that they tell each other everything. Now that Spencer and Ali know that they're cousins and Aria is engaged to Ezra, there's no way she's just going to let this pregnancy thing go.

It's only a matter of time before they're pounding at my door, either accusing me of lying or asking me for more help, so all I can do until that happens is bide my time.

I'm so lost in thought, convinced that the other shoe is about to drop, and soon, that I don't even notice a woman approaching the counter until she speaks. "I'll have a large coffee, black. Please."

My head snaps up, and the first thing I see is my own startled face, reflected in huge black sunglasses. "Jenna," I blurt out without thinking, taking in her dark but professional-looking clothes and the familiar white and black cane at her side.

Jenna tilts her head, smiling vaguely. "Viola? Is that you?" Without waiting for confirmation she goes on sweetly, "You're not working here, are you?"

"I am," I reply coolly. Then, to test the waters, I ask cautiously, "So you're teaching at Rosewood now? With Alison?"

"With Alison?" she repeats, scrunching up her mouth. "That's a funny way of putting it. But yes. I am." She pauses, then adds, "No cream, no sugar."

"Black, got it." I turn away and grab a cup, calling over my shoulder as I do so, "So what kind of things do you teach in…what is it, life skills? Paying the bills, balancing a checkbook…sneaking into mental institutions?"

I chance a look behind me just in time to see Jenna suck in a breath and tilt her chin up. "What are you talking about?"

I fill the cup with coffee and set it down hard on the counter in front of her. "You really thought Mona wouldn't tell me?" I hiss under my breath. "I saw the video."

Jenna leans toward me, her face inches from mine. I take a small step back. "Viola. You need to stop thinking about this. Forget you saw that video and _do not_ get any more involved than I'm sure you already are."

"You gave it to my sister for a reason," I practically whisper, staring into my own eyes, reflected back at me through her glasses. "It's an N.A.T. Club video, isn't it? Did you take it?"

"No," she snaps, and straightens up, her back going rigid. "I saw it for the first time a few months ago. I gave it to Mona because I know what she's capable of. If there's one person who can get all the information, it's her."

I can't argue with that, but my mind is swirling with questions. If Jenna's role in this mess was unclear to begin with, now it's like trying to make out an image in a crystal ball. There are so many things I want to ask her, but she reaches out, locating the coffee cup and wrapping her hand around it, and I blurt out the most important one I can think of. "And what does Ezra Fitz have to do with all of this?"

Jenna freezes. "Be very careful about who you trust, Viola," she says darkly, without hesitation. "You can never really know who's on your side."

I've heard plenty of vague, unsettling remarks over the past few weeks, but that by far takes the cake. A chill runs down my back. "What do you – " I gasp, more desperate than ever for clarification, but she tosses a few dollars onto the counter and spins around. I listen mutely to the tap-tap of her walking stick as she carefully makes her way out of the Brew.

I exhale slowly and press my hands against the counter. The air suddenly feels thick and consuming. I turn slightly away to loosen the tie on my apron, and as I do so, I happen to glance toward the stairs to the loft.

Ezra's legs appear, then his body and head, his hand grazing the railing as he steps into the room. He gazes around at the several customers sipping their drinks and eating breakfast pastries. Then his eyes land on me. He grins and lifts his hand in a wave.

I manage to smile in return, but immediately lean against the counter for support, because my knees feel like they're about to give out on me.

…

It's not even twenty-four hours after my conversation with Spencer that I open my front door to find her and Hanna standing in the hallway, their arms crossed and their faces set with something between determination and apprehension.

"Um, hi," I say slowly. "What's going on?"

"I told Hanna everything," Spencer says. "Can we come in?"

"S-sure," I stammer, and step aside so they can enter.

They stride into the apartment with their heads high just as Mona walks into the room, dressed but with wet hair dripping down her back. "What are you guys doing here?"

Spencer glances between us. "I thought a lot about what you told me yesterday. At first I didn't want to believe it, that Ali's still keeping secrets from us, that Ezra had something to do with N.A.T. But if A.D. really is back, we can't dismiss anything."

"She came and talked to me last night," Hanna adds. "Aria and Emily don't know anything."

"I didn't think it would be a good idea to tell them," Spencer explains hastily. "They're both – "

"A little too close to the source," Mona cuts in, nodding. "Good. We need to figure out exactly what's going on before we break their hearts."

"Okay," Hanna says, holding up her hands. "Can we not jump to conclusions? Maybe it's nothing."

"Maybe not," I muse quietly, perching on the arm of the couch. The other three follow my lead, taking seats around me. "But it's not like we have any other leads."

Spencer leans forward, clasping her hands between her knees. I squint at her, noticing the bags under her eyes and getting the distinct feeling that she stayed up all last night, probably going over and over what I told her in her mind. "Well, we should probably start with…what do we know for sure?"

"Ali was pregnant the summer she went missing," I answer immediately. "She convinced Wren to help her get an abortion a few months later, at a hospital where Ezra's mother is on the board."

"Mary was locked up, and now she's not," Hanna adds, and Spencer flinches, closing her eyes.

I nod. "She's missing. And there was a piece of paper that seemed to link Ezra to Rosewood's club of pervs. And…"

I fall silent and the four of us exchange looks. It's Mona who finally speaks up. "If no one else will say it, I will. Ezra is Alison's would-be baby daddy."

"There's no proof of that," Spencer snaps quickly, but her foot is tapping nervously against the floor.

"We could get some," Hanna protests, shrugging. "I say we bust down his door and go all Hanns Scharff on his ass." I freeze with my glass of water halfway to my mouth, and glance at the others, shocked by this sudden burst of historical knowledge. Hanna rolls her eyes and huffs, "Fashion school wasn't _all_ designing clothes, you know."

"Ezra's not going to talk," my sister says, steering the conversation back on track. "Setting up an abortion for a minor is against the law, and he's not exactly a model citizen as it is."

I shift in my seat, crossing my legs and taking a sip of water. "I'd say we could seek out Dianne, but if she helped arrange it then she could get in just as much trouble. And she'd be kicked off the board for sure."

"I could try going back and talking to Wren," Spencer volunteers. I raise my eyebrows at her. Is she insinuating that I didn't do enough to get answers from him? "He might open up to me more," she goes on, noticing the look.

"He opened up to me plenty," I argue. "He seemed to want to help, he just honestly didn't know much."

"Do we really have to spend so much time talking about this?" Hanna exclaims suddenly. "So Ezra got Ali pregnant, what does that have to do with anything?"

"I think Aria might feel differently," I mutter.

"This all started when Jenna brought me that video," Mona says. "She obviously thought it was the key to everything that's going on."

"You mean the key to figuring out who A.D. is," Hanna clarifies.

Spencer pauses, glancing at each of us with a furrowed brow. "What if the pregnancy's the connection?" she asks, speaking carefully. "Going off of what we're assuming, Ezra got Ali pregnant that summer. And a few months ago A.D. did the same thing? That's a pretty big coincidence."

I chew on my lip, resisting the strong urge to blurt out what I know, that A.D.'s plan didn't work. They might have gotten Alison pregnant, but once again, she won't be delivering a baby.

The four of us are quiet for a long moment, none of us looking at each other. Hanna finally lets out a breath. "Are we seriously saying it out loud? Ezra's A.D.?"

"It's been obvious to me since I saw the name Dianne Fitzgerald on that hospital's website," Mona answers, getting up and walking into the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee.

I sigh. "And I knew something wasn't right as soon as I found that paper under his bed." I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. Even though I haven't really let myself think the words, _Ezra is A,_ the thought has been bubbling just under the surface for days. It's both relieving and incredibly disturbing to actually express it.

"God," Hanna mutters, shaking her head in obvious disgust. "He's _way_ more of a creep than we thought. Poor Ali."

Spencer stands and begins to pace, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Let's not go there just yet, alright? If we're right…this is going to destroy Aria. We can't just throw out accusations this time. We have to know for sure before we tell her."

"Agreed," Mona says from the kitchen, pulling four mugs out of the cabinet and filling them with coffee. "Whoever this A is, they're not going to go down without a fight. We need concrete proof."

"We'll keep this from Aria until we find some," Spencer concludes.

I stand as well and walk over to grab one of the mugs of coffee, taking a big gulp to try and clear my mind. We've gone from vague theories to what we think is an actual answer in less than half an hour, and it's making my head spin. "I think you guys should leave Emily and Ali out of this, too, at least for now. Regardless of why Ali lied about her pregnancy that summer, I'm not too sure she's trustworthy. And you guys know just as well as I do that anything you tell Emily, she's going to run and share with Alison."

Spencer nods, frowning, but Hanna shakes her head, looking almost sick. Spencer glances at her and says gently, "Han? She's right."

"I know," Hanna mutters, resting her elbows on her knees. "It's just that the five of us promised to stick together. No more secrets. Lying to three of our best friends about something so huge just feels…so wrong."

I shoot a look back at my sister and we share a discreet eye roll. "It's not forever," I say to Hanna, pushing back any irritation. "Just until we know for sure what we're dealing with."

"Toby's back in town," Spencer chimes in, folding her arms. "And I know he'd be willing to help. I'll fill him in and see what he can find out at the station. Maybe they have files, records we don't know about."

That seems like a long shot to me, but anything to get a step closer to stopping A.D. sounds good to me. "Okay. Just make sure you swear him to total secrecy."

"Viola will stay late after work some day this week," Mona adds, and I raise my eyebrows. This is news to me. "I'll stop by after the Brew closes and we'll take a look around. Just because we didn't find much in his apartment doesn't mean he's not hiding anything."

The idea of that plan is unappealing, but now that I'm fairly sure Ezra is a crazy psychopath, keeping my job at the Brew doesn't seem overly important anymore. "Worth a shot."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Hanna bursts out. "Sit around and wait for you guys to play Sherlock Holmes?"

"What's with the references today?" Spencer mumbles.

I ignore her, pointing at Hanna as an idea occurs to me. "I talked to Jenna at work today. She seems to think Ezra's up to something, too. You can find her and see if you can force any more information out of her."

"I am good at interrogating people," Hanna admits, and we all laugh.

After a moment our smiles subside, and we all exchange looks of nervous determination. It feels good to finally have a plan. And within the next week, this whole thing just might be over before it really begins.


	10. Chapter 10

Here's another long chapter for you guys! Thank you as always to everyone who left reviews, your feedback makes my day. I have to say I'm a bit confused by the review claiming that this is the same as 7x20, though. Aside from a few small similarities in terms of where the characters ended up after 7x19, it's really very different. But please continue to drop me reviews and let me know what you think! I need the motivation now more than ever to continue uploading amongst everything for school, and I'm hoping to have the next chapter up sometime this weekend.

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Chapter 10

"We turned the whole place upside down. Nothing," I complain to Hanna as I slip out of the Brew, holding the door open behind me for my sister to follow.

It's been three days since we all decided on a plan, and opportunity finally struck today. Hanna dropped Mona off to hang out until the end of my shift, and Ezra and Aria happened to leave the loft just as the lunch rush was ending. Once the last customer walked out, we flipped the sign on the door to "closed" and began searching, as quickly as we could before Ezra returned.

"Crap," Hanna mutters. "I got nothing from Jenna, either."

"Wait, you talked to her already?"

"I cornered her at Lucky Leons yesterday. But she wouldn't talk. I just got the same vague mumbo-jumbo that you did from her."

"What about Spencer?" I ask as I climb into my car. "Has she seen Toby yet?"

"She's talked to him a couple times," Hanna answers, sighing. "But even after three months building houses in Africa, he's still pretty torn up. She said she doesn't want to bombard him with everything all at once."

I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, frustrated. A few days ago we were so determined, so confident that answers were just around the corner. And yet here we are with nothing more. "I get that. But we really could use his help as soon as possible."

"I know," Hanna replies. "But you know with them it's…complicated."

"Yeah. Well, I'm going to…" I trail off, then amend quickly, "I'll talk to you later."

I hang up and turn to my sister, who raises her eyebrows. "What aren't you telling Hanna? Or me, for that matter?"

I toss my phone into the backseat and pull the car out onto the street. "I was _going_ to tell you, if you'd given me a minute. Later tonight I'm going to sneak into the high school and try to get into Alison's classroom. Do a little snooping."

Mona frowns, but looks unsurprised. "You're still suspicious of her?"

"I can't help but be," I admit. "I know Spencer and Hanna think she's just a victim of Ezra's twisted morals, but…I don't know. Something doesn't add up. And she _still_ hasn't told anyone that she lost the baby."

"You don't have to convince me," she says, examining her nails as I turn onto our street. "I don't trust that girl as far as I can throw her. But I also don't think she'd be stupid enough to keep anything important in her classroom."

I sigh as I pull the car into the apartment complex's parking lot. "I don't either," I admit. "But it's going to be a hell of a lot easier than breaking into her house. And I have to start somewhere."

"I wouldn't mind doing a little snooping of my own," Mona comments lightly as we get out of the car. "I'll come with you."

"No," I snap immediately, my heart speeding up at just the thought. "You need to stay as uninvolved as possible. One more misstep could get you sent in for another evaluation, and getting caught doing something illegal? You've been sent to an institution instead of jail three times now. Next time you might not get off so easy."

"Melodramatic much?" Mona says, rolling her eyes, and I brace myself for a fight. "But fine. Two people sneaking into the school might be too conspicuous anyway."

I turn to stare at her as we enter the apartment, shocked. "Wow," I blurt out, unable to stop myself. "You're seriously okay with sitting around here while I go investigate?"

"Do what you have to do," my sister says, waving a hand dismissively. "I have some of my own research to take care of."

I have no idea what that means, and I feel an immediate pit grow in my stomach. But Mona slips into her room and shuts the door before I can even figure out what to ask, and I shake my head and let it go. Let my sister sit with her computer and do whatever "research" she wants. It can't hurt.

…

Several hours later, I watch Principal Hackett drive out of the now-abandoned high school parking lot, and slip around the side of the school silently. This isn't the first time I've broken into this building, but I never in a million years thought I'd be doing it again.

Even so, it takes me moments to pick the lock on the back door, the small, almost hidden one that leads to the maintenance office, and five minutes later I'm standing in the darkened hallway right outside of Alison's classroom.

I shoot a furtive glance around, feeling jittery. Even though the building is quiet aside from the gentle buzz of the central air, I'm paranoid that at any moment a teacher or janitor is going to burst around the corner and demand to know what I'm doing here.

It's only now, as I bend down and use a bobby pin to pick this second lock, that I realize what a risk I'm taking by being here. I left my phone at home so A.D. can't track it, but that doesn't mean I can't get caught by anyone else. And if I get in any kind of legal trouble, my conservatorship over Mona could be terminated.

I shiver. Is this really worth it? Following an instinct that probably means nothing? It's not like I'm actually going to find anything in here, anyway.

But then the lock clicks and the door inches open, and I walk inside with a sharp inhale. I've come this far. I'm not turning back now.

I shut the door behind me and pull down the shade to cover the window. Then I flip the overhead light on and gaze around. Alison's classroom. _Ezra's_ old classroom, I realize with a jolt, and it looks nearly identical, except that the desks are set up in a half-circle instead of rows.

There's really only one logical place to search: Her desk. The top drawer slides open easily, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I don't have to wrangle with any more locks.

Unfortunately, it quickly becomes apparent that there's nothing of interest in here, either. Pens and pencils, jumbled papers, a few bent paperclips – a typical teacher's desk. I should have known better than to expect anything more, but I still let out a sigh as I push it closed.

The middle side drawer contains nothing but folders filled with old test versions and answer keys. I smirk to myself, remembering the months that Macy spent in high school stealing test answers in order to pass her classes. If every teacher back then kept their keys as insecurely held as Ali does, she must not have had a very difficult time getting ahold of them.

But they're not going to do me very much good. I lower myself into the swivel chair and bend down to access the bottom drawer. It mostly appears to be junk – confiscated items from students, most likely – but there are a few photographs buried at the bottom, which I scoop out.

One is a picture of Alison and Charlotte, clearly taken when Charlotte was in the later stages of her time at Welby. The second is a snapshot of Ali and Archer under a twinkling archway in Aria's backyard – their impromptu wedding.

I roll my eyes in disgust. Obviously Alison hasn't cleaned out her desk in a while, considering what we know now about both her sister/cousin and crazy husband.

But the third photograph draws my attention before I can think too hard about this. A young blonde girl stands back to back with a black-haired, dark-skinned girl of the same age, their arms brushing against each other and sweet grins on both of their faces.

It's cute, and a smile crosses my face before I focus in on the girl on the right and realize that I recognize that face.

 _Shana._

I hold the picture up close, staring at it in disbelief. Why would Ali have a picture of her and the childhood friend who not only fell in love with one of her worst enemies, but proceeded to try and kill her? I let out a little laugh, shaking my head. The pictures of Charlotte and Rollins seem bizarrely recent in comparison.

I stand shakily, still staring down at the two little girls. Something about this feels off. I wrack my brain, trying to figure out if what I remember about Shana is inaccurate, if she really didn't turn against Alison after all. Am I forgetting how things went down in New York, all those years ago when Ali first agreed to meet up with the girls? I may not have been there myself, but I got all of my info from my sister, who, I'm fairly sure, is a reliable source.

A creak sounds from out in the hallway, followed by a door shutting, and the pictures flutter from my hands. Someone's here. Holding my breath, I quietly set the photographs back in the drawer and shut it. Then I tiptoe toward the door to turn off the light. If I wait and don't make any noise, maybe whoever's here will head in a different direction and I can slip out unnoticed.

I'm reaching for the light switch when the door swings open.

I gasp and leap back to avoid getting smacked in the face, and when I look up, Jenna is in front of me, her cane standing straight up in front of her.

"Oh my God," I squeak out in surprise, then clap a hand over my mouth. _Crap._ I could have just not said a word and slipped by her without her ever knowing it was me.

I'm hoping my voice was too high-pitched for her to identify, but she wrinkles her brow and smiles. "Hello, Viola. I thought I heard someone."

Damn her over-sensitive ears. "Jenna. Why are you here so late?"

"My class is doing a blindness simulator tomorrow," she replies calmly. "I was getting the materials ready." She takes a few steps into the room. "Now it's my turn. What are you doing here? This is Alison's classroom, isn't it?"

I consider lying, but remember just in time that each room number in the hallway is written in Braille as well. She could easily figure out the truth. "Um, yeah," I stammer, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. "I was just…"

"Looking through her desk?" Jenna cuts me off, running a hand through her hair. Her posture straightens. "I thought I told you to stay out of this."

"It's too late for that," I snap, walking back over to the desk and grabbing the photograph of Ali and Shana out of the bottom drawer. "I've been involved for weeks, and I'm not backing down until you tell me what you know."

Jenna raises her chin stubbornly. "Who's to say I know anything more than what I've already told you?"

I fold my arms and roll my eyes, even though she can't see me. "That N.A.T. Club video doesn't explain how you got involved to begin with. Or why you think it has anything to do with A.D."

"All I have are suspicions. The same as you."

"That recording from eight years ago shouldn't have made you suspicious," I go on, stepping closer to her. "But this photograph that I found in the desk would have. It's a picture of Ali as a little girl, with – "

"Shana," Jenna interrupts coolly. "I know. You're not the first person to come across that photo, Viola."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, because obviously she can't be referring to herself.

She hesitates, clearly battling with indecision, but finally makes her way over to one of the students' desks and carefully takes a seat. I perch on the edge of Alison's desk and wait.

"About a month ago I came in to grade some papers on a Saturday and came across someone doing just what you were – looking through Alison's desk. Addison Derringer."

She says the name with such conviction that it seems like it is supposed to mean something to me. But I'm drawing a blank. "Um…should I know who that is?"

"She's a student. Alison two-point-oh."

"Oh, God." Even the image makes me sick to my stomach. "So what, is Ali, like, her mentor or something?"

Jenna crosses her legs, leaning back and setting her cane on the desk like she's settling in to tell a story. "More like her public enemy number one. According to the faculty, those two have been butting heads since long before I've been here to witness it."

I can't hold back a smirk. The idea of Alison at war with some doppelganger of her high school self is almost sitcom-worthy. "So what? She was looking for something to blackmail her with?"

"That's what I assumed," Jenna confirms. "And when I told her to hand over what she found and asked her what it was, she described the same picture." She pauses and takes in a breath. Her lip is wobbling. "Shana was in love with me. She loved me so much that she tried to kill Alison for me. So I just couldn't understand…"

"Why Ali would keep a photo like that in her desk," I finish darkly. "Yeah, I had the same thought." I eye Jenna suspiciously, my gaze narrowed. There's a strange queasy feeling in my stomach. I've been wary of the blind girl since I found out that she trapped Ali and the other girls and tried to kill them a few months ago. It doesn't necessarily look like she has any kind of weapons on her now, but I inch a little closer to the door, just in case this conversation takes a bad turn.

"It didn't feel right," Jenna continues. "And I couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with the person who drove off with me in the back of that van. So I did some digging back into the only source I had – those videos."

I hop off of the desk and lean against it, frowning. I guess my brain must be more similar to hers than I would have thought. The hair on my arms rises at the very idea. "But wait. Why did you have a copy of the old N.A.T. videos to begin with?"

A long silence follows. Jenna's mouth twists, and the tension in the room thickens. I glance toward the door, wondering if I should move to block it, but immediately feel ridiculous. It's not as if she could dash past me and get away.

"Garrett gave me a copy," she finally admits tersely. "Years ago, back when Mona was A and was getting ahold of them somehow. He was worried that something was going to happen to him – "

"He was a grown man taking videos of little girls," I interject with a scoff, unable to stop myself.

"Legally _or_ at the hands of your sister," Jenna snaps, and I press my lips together, going silent. "So he gave me a copy for safe-keeping. I only got through about half of them before my sight declined again. But when Addison told me about that picture, it made me suspicious enough to at least listen to the rest. And I'm sure you can guess which one piqued my interest."

"The pregnancy," I mutter. "And Wren."

Jenna nods slowly. "The little inconsistencies surrounding Ali just seem to keep building up, don't they?"

I stare at her, holding my breath. This whole situation just seems to get more and more complicated by the minute, and I have no idea who to believe. Everything Jenna's saying is exactly what I've been thinking for weeks now. But on the other hand, she's given me no reason to believe her – _ever._ My gaze shifts to the window. Half of me is expecting A.D. to burst in at any minute and aim a knife at my throat.

My voice is shaking when I finally manage to ask, "So then what? Why did you drag my sister into this?"

"I already told you that part," Jenna says, clearly exasperated. "The reason Mona was in Welby was because she got addicted to the game she started. I knew that she wouldn't be able to resist looking into something like this."

So Jenna was happy to let my sister do the dirty work just so she wouldn't get in any trouble? Typical. I dig my nails into my palms, forcing down boiling rage. I always thought Ali was the most self-interested person I know, but Jenna has to have her beat. Sacrificing someone's mental health just to avoid getting herself all wrapped up in the answers that _she_ wanted in the first place.

I take in a breath and hold it. _Be calm,_ I order myself. _Just for a few more minutes._ "Well, now Mona's not the only person who's involved," I murmur. "A.D. has slithered back out of the woodwork."

"I have nothing to do with that person, and I have no idea why they're back in Rosewood," Jenna insists, standing carefully. "You asked for my story, and I gave it to you." She moves toward me, tapping her walking stick in front of her until she's only a few feet away. "This is the last time I'm going to talk about this. I've told you everything I know, and I'm not going to let you drag me back into this. The next time I'm abducted I might not be so lucky."

I open my mouth, ready to remind her that she wasn't exactly innocent that night, either, but stop myself, staying quiet as I watch her walk out of the room.

I call Spencer and leave a voicemail as I sneak back out of the school and head for my car. "Hey, call me back as soon as you get this. I was just in the school, and I found something out that I think might be important. I need to talk to you and Hanna, and maybe Aria, too. This isn't about Ezra, it's about, um – "

The machine cuts me off and I sigh, jamming my phone into my pocket. My stomach is swirling with nerves as I consider the girls' reactions to my discovery and conversation with Jenna. It's not like that picture proves anything, but it definitely puts Alison in a new perspective. And now that she's all chummy with her four old friends, I can't be sure how they're going to respond to it.

"Hey," I call once I throw open the door to my apartment. "Did you go out? Because I know I locked the door behind me, and…"

I trail off, glancing around the empty living room and kitchen. A feeling of unease that I can't explain immediately sweeps over me, sending a chill down my spine as I'm reminded disturbingly of the day I returned to find this place ransacked. But unlike that terrible afternoon, everything is in its place, as neat as when I left an hour ago.

"Mona?" I call, glancing at the open bathroom door and then rushing into her bedroom. It's empty as well, and my vision darkens with panic. I look frantically toward the window, desperate to cling to the idea that for some reason she decided to use the fire escape as a backdoor exit again, but it's shut and locked.

I pull out my phone and dial, my hands shaking with nerves. What if that panic attack the other day really wasn't a one-time thing? What if she's been heading for another breakdown, hiding most of the signs from me?

My stomach turns and I swallow hard, just about to dig out her pills and count them, when two phones begin to ring simultaneously. One is my own, right in my ear, and the other is my sister's, sitting on the table beside the bed.

I end the call and walk over to it. My vision is still fuzzy. Everything feels like it's moving in slow-motion, like I'm underwater or trying to run from a monster in a dream.

I scoop up Mona's phone and type in her passcode, which the doctors at Welby required she give me. There are barely any apps downloaded, and the only recent calls are from Hanna and me.

Then I open her texts, feeling guilty for snooping even though I know deep down that something is very wrong, and freeze, my mind blank as I scroll through the anonymous messages sprinkled among ones from our mother, Hanna, and myself.

 _You ended her. Now I end you._

 _There are no bars on the windows to keep your safe anymore. Sleep tight._

 _I hope you're biding your time, bitch. This is all going to be over soon._

My eyes flit across the words, message after message, each signed by A.D., beginning with the one about getting away with murder, the one my sister showed me soon after she was released from the hospital.

This has been going on for weeks now. And she kept all of it from me.

A strange combination of anger and sympathy swells up simultaneously in my chest, but all of that confusion is almost instantly replaced by sheer terror.

My sister is gone. And these messages make it obvious that it's not of her own free will.


	11. Chapter 11

Well this is just about where it all goes down. To Nel, yes that was indeed Spencer. There is no Alex or any other twin in this story, I can assure you! Thank you all for the great feedback on the last chapter, I'm glad that you're all still enjoying and I hope you like where I take everything in this chapter. As always, please review and let me know what you think!

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Chapter 11

If there's one person who can help me, it's Spencer, so I'm relieved to see the light on in her barn as I leap out of my car and run toward it.

I should have listened. I should have slowed down and paid attention when Mona was panicking, when she was trying to tell me that there's something I don't understand. If I'd set aside my own fear and embarrassment for one second, this might not be happening. I might have been able to stop it…whatever _it_ is.

I bang on the door, my breath quick and my chest burning, and am just about to barge right in when Spencer flings it open. "Hey, sorry, I just got your message but I couldn't exactly – "

"That's not important right now," I interrupt, shoving past her into the barn. "Mona's gone."

"What do you mean, _gone?_ " Spencer asks, shutting the door behind me, but I freeze before I can answer the question, because at that moment my eyes flit over to Hanna, Emily, Aria, and Alison sitting in the living room.

 _Damn._ I was praying on the way over that I would find Spencer alone, that we could call Hanna and tell her to get over here so we could come up with a new plan, _immediately,_ without Emily and Aria and especially Alison getting involved.

But there's really no way out of this, not after I made such a dramatic entrance. All five girls are watching me with obvious interest. Hanna even stands and crosses her arms, her brow furrowed. I take a breath and plow ahead. "Gone as in _vanished._ I got back to my apartment a few minutes ago, and she's nowhere to be found. And that's not to mention the dozens of texts that I found on her phone."

"Wait." Aria tucks her hair behind her ear and waves her hands in front of her face. "As in texts from A.D.?"

"Since she got out of Welby," I confirm, shaking my head. In my haste to get here I dropped the phone back on the bed, but now I wish I'd thought to bring it.

Ali and Emily both stand, their hands clasped together. "What did the messages say?" Alison asks, her voice wavering.

"Stuff that made it obvious something like this was going to happen," I say, striding across the room and then back again just for something to do with all of this pent-up frustration and fear. "God, I can't believe she didn't _tell me!_ " The words come out as a scream, and I clap a hand to my mouth. The tears that have been prickling at my eyes since I rushed in here finally boil over, and a sob escapes my throat before I can force it back.

Hanna walks over and sets her hand on my arm. "Viola. Hey," she says quietly. "We'll find her."

"How are we going to do that?" Aria bursts out. "It's not like we have anything to go off of."

"No leads, no suspicions." Emily shakes her head, almost in disgust. "A.D. hasn't even been back long enough for us to start figuring out who they are."

I exchange a glance with Spencer and Hanna just as Aria asks, "So where do we start?"

Spencer clears her throat, tapping her hand against the kitchen counter. "Um…I-I don't know, but – "

"I do." Once again, it's as if my body is acting independently of my brain. Five heads whip around to face me. Spencer takes a step forward, her eyes widening, but I ignore her warning look. "Spencer, Hanna, and I have been putting the pieces together. We know who A.D. is."

" _What?_ " Aria and Emily gasp together, as Alison's face pales.

"Viola – " Hanna begins, but I cut her off. I can't stop now.

"No. There's no time to mess around anymore. They all need to know." I turn to Aria, looking at her dead on as I deliver the words that I know will crush her. "Ezra is A."

Everyone reacts in unison. Emily's mouth drops. Spencer pinches the bridge of her nose. Hanna sighs. Alison reels back, grapping onto the arm of the sofa to steady herself.

Only Aria remains frozen, staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes. Her face is completely expressionless. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this," I continue shakily. Her mute blankness is unsettling. I think I would have preferred it if she'd started screaming and throwing things at me. "But I can explain. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Aria," Spencer says urgently, rushing over to sit beside her friend. "Say something."

Aria lowers her eyes from me to the ground. She looks a little like she's about to be sick. Finally her lips part. "No," she breathes, barely audible. "No, I don't believe you."

"She's telling the truth," Hanna says gently, pressing her hands together in obvious discomfort. "Everything adds up."

"Yeah," I add darkly, crossing my arms and preparing to launch into the story. I glance over at Alison, my eyes meeting hers. Every time I look at her, all I see is that fifteen-year-old storming into Wren's office, begging for an abortion. This conversation is going to be painful for all of us. "Starting with – "

But it's Ali herself who interrupts me, throwing out her arms and crying out before I can go on, "What the hell is wrong with you guys?"

I freeze, the words falling away. Spencer rubs Aria's shoulder, a stunned expression on her face. "Ali – "

"How could you keep this from us?" Alison speaks over her, linking her arm through Emily's. The dark-haired girl furrows her brow and ducks her head, not meeting anyone's eyes. "You've suspected Ezra for…how long? Days? Weeks?"

"It's only really been a few days – " Spencer interjects, her voice gentle but nervous.

"And you've left me, Aria, and Em completely in the dark," Alison goes on, her voice rising. There are two bright pink spots on her cheeks. I haven't seen her this angry since she first returned to Rosewood High, when she felt like all of her friends were turning against her.

I'm beginning to sense a pattern here.

"Look, Ali, I know this seems bad," Hanna says, "but we didn't want to say anything to Aria until we knew for sure, and we didn't tell you because – "

"Because why? You don't trust me?"

Spencer sighs. "Ali, you know that's not true."

I hide an eye roll. Just a few days ago she was in full agreement that we should investigate Alison's involvement with Ezra a little more before filling her in. It's amazing how quickly the tables can turn.

"We're supposed to be best friends," Alison yells, breaking away from Emily and striding over to face Spencer and Hanna, who are both huddled around Aria. "What happened to telling each other everything, no more secrets? If you guys do trust me, give me one good reason why you wouldn't tell me _or_ Emily about Ezra." At the mention of Ezra's name, Aria squeezes her eyes shut and takes in a shuddering breath.

My vision has practically gone red. Watching Ali stand here and rant about her friends keeping secrets, while _she's_ been lying to them for years, is more than I can bear. Hanna and Spencer exchange a guilty look. I can feel the guilt bouncing between them, and I know as soon as Spencer stands and opens her mouth that the apologies and pandering are about to begin.

So I speak before she can. "Are you kidding me? You're one to talk about lying to your friends, Ali."

Emily steps forward. "What are you talking about?"

My hands clench into fists. "I'm talking about your girlfriend sneaking off to abort Ezra's baby months after she disappeared. And I'm talking about her lying about still being pregnant for the last _month!_ Hasn't she told you yet, Emily? She lost the baby."

I clamp my mouth shut, but it's too late. The words are out there, and they are way harsher than I intended.

The silence that follows my exclamation is deafening. Spencer and Hanna both whip around to stare at Alison, her miscarriage being news to them as well. Aria slowly rises to her feet, her face ashen. "Ezra's _baby?_ "

"Ali." Emily stares at the blonde with wide, confused eyes. "I don't…I don't understand…"

I turn to Alison, not sure what to expect. Maybe for her to break down and confess everything she's done. Or for her to punch me right in the face. But instead, she straightens up, raising her chin defensively. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, save it," I snap. "There's a video, Alison. Of you going to see Wren the winter after you went missing. Pleading for him to set you up with an appointment for a termination."

Alison narrows her eyes as Aria presses both hands to her head. "No, no, this is _crazy._ Ezra told me you guys never actually did anything."

"Because we didn't," Ali says sharply. She folds her arms and looks me dead in the eye. "She's lying."

I bark out a laugh, glancing over at Spencer and Hanna. They're looking from me to Ali with unreadable expressions. "Yeah, sure. And how do you explain you coming to my apartment a few weeks ago just to tell me that you miscarried?"

"You never told us that," Hanna mutters, furrowing her brow at me.

"Because I was trying to be respectful! It was up to Ali to tell all of you, not me!"

Ali scoffs, rolling her eyes like I'm a bug pestering her. "And I supposedly came to you with that kind of news before telling my friends? _Emily?_ Does that sound like a believable story to you, Viola?"

Emily reaches out, grabbing her hand. "So it's not true? You didn't…"

"Of course not," Alison says softly, placing her free hand on her stomach. "I had an ultrasound appointment just the other day, Em, you know that. Everything's completely fine."

Emily lets out a sigh of relief, smiling at her, but I look from girl to girl, my head spinning and my stomach roiling. I feel like I'm barely grasping this conversation, and apparently Hanna feels the same way. "Okay, I'm confused. Someone has to be lying."

Ali offers her a small smile. "You guys know I wouldn't lie to you. I trust all four of you with my life." She turns to me, her eyes narrowing. "She's the one who's lying, about everything. Ezra and I never slept together. I've never even met Wren. And our baby is perfectly healthy."

"I knew Ezra would never hurt me," Aria breathes. She gives me a look filled with disgust. "What is wrong with you? Why would you…make up something like that?"

This is all wrong. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. "I'm telling the truth!" I cry desperately, looking to Spencer for help. "Spencer, the video…I…"

"I never saw the video," Spencer says quietly, sitting back on the edge of the couch. "Remember? You said it had been wiped from your computer."

I wince. _You said._ She doesn't believe me. None of them believe me. I step backward, feeling myself spiraling into a panic. I catch sight of Ali's smug face and burst out, "Prove it. Prove you're still pregnant."

"She doesn't have to prove anything to you," Emily snaps.

"Em." Ali puts a hand on her arm. "It's fine." She grabs her purse from the floor by the couch and pulls out a small photograph. "I asked the nurse for a photo of my ultrasound. I was going to have it framed and give it to you as a gift, but…" She shrugs and hands it to me.

I stare down at the picture, my throat tightening in disbelief. The date is stamped in the lower corner. This was taken three days ago. And the image of the fetus matches how far along she should be.

This is impossible. She sat in my apartment a few weeks ago, her eyes filled with tears as she told me about her miscarriage, asked me for advice on how to tell her friends. I wonder for a moment if I'm crazy, or if I'm remembering the conversation incorrectly. The word _gaslighting_ runs through my head.

Alison plucks the photo back out of my hand. "There's my proof. Now where's yours? This video you keep talking about, where is it?"

"A.D… _destroyed_ it," I cry, flinging my arms out at my sides. "You guys know how this game works!"

"All I know is that Alison has proof and you don't," Hanna says harshly. "Everything you told me and Spencer…how do we know you didn't just make it all up?"

I laugh out loud. This is all so ridiculous that it almost seems funny. "Why would I do that?"

"To divide us," Aria blurts out suddenly. "You were going to pin the A game on Ali and Ezra and split up the rest of us. Make us not trust each other."

"Is Mona really even missing?" Emily continues. "Or is she outside, waiting to set a match to this place as soon as you leave?"

"What?" I gasp. The mention of my sister has sent a new wave of fear rushing in amidst the confusion and anger. "No! She really is missing and all of this arguing is taking time away from actually _finding her!"_

"It's funny how none of us heard a thing from A.D. until after Mona got out of the hospital," Alison remarks casually, like we're talking about odd weather patterns. "What do you think of that timing, Viola?"

"I think this is insane!" I scream, running a hand over my eyes. I turn to Spencer and Hanna, picturing the determination on their faces when they agreed to help my sister and myself gather evidence on Ezra. They had no reservations, no qualms about believing everything I told them. But one protest from Ali and they're running back to her defense? It's like early high school all over again. "I can't believe you guys are taking her side!"

Aria stares at me like I've lost my mind. "Ali's our _best friend,_ " she retorts.

"Yeah, and she's shown us more proof in five minutes than you have in two weeks," Hanna adds.

Emily puts her hands on her hips. "The only insane part of this is that you seriously thought we wouldn't figure out what you're doing."

My stomach lurches. I feel like I'm going to keel over. I thought things were going to be different this time. I thought that Spencer and Hanna really did want to help me, that they sincerely believed me about A.D. and everything I'd found out about Ezra and Alison. I thought we were actually going to be on the same side for once.

I should have known better.

Aria puts a comforting hand on Alison's shoulder, and Emily takes her hand. Forcing back tears, I whirl around to face Spencer, who's standing silently near the fireplace, taking all of this in blankly. "Do you have anything to add?"

She sighs and juts her chin toward the door. "I think you should go."

I squeeze my eyes shut. A tear rolls down my cheek, but I don't make a move to wipe it away. "Fine. Believe Ali over me. But I promise you, you'll all regret it." Before any of them can argue, I turn for the door and fling it open. "While you all sit here and nurse her hurt ego, I'm going to get my sister back."


	12. Chapter 12

I apologize in advance for the short length of this chapter, but it was the logical stopping point considering what's coming next. Thank you all as always for the great comments and feedback! I especially love reading your own theories about the characters. I hope you're not getting bored by the amount of talking/dialogue and lack of action going on lately - that's all about to change in the next chapter, so please keep reviewing and letting me know what you think! I'm hoping to get the next one up soon!

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Chapter 12

The problem is the lack of information. The only thing I really know is that A.D. has something to do with my sister's disappearance, and even that's a guess more than anything.

It adds up, though. Three months ago all A.D. seemed to want was Charlotte's murderer. They were even willing to kidnap and torture Hanna just for admitting to being her killer. I've always felt that the only reason Mona didn't get hit hard was because there wasn't time for A.D. to strike – she was admitted to Welby the same night she told the truth about what happened in the bell tower.

Nearly an hour after I leave the girls, I'm sitting on the floor in the center of my living room, staring down at the materials in front of me. Mona's cell phone, with the latest text from A.D. – sent just yesterday – pulled up on the screen. The photo of Alison and Shana, which I swiped from Ali's desk earlier and would have shown the girls if they hadn't turned on me and kicked me out. I gaze down at it, feeling a pang of regret that I didn't whip it out and throw it in Alison's face. But it's not as if it would have done any good. She would have had an explanation for that too, I'm sure, and it wouldn't have changed anything.

And finally, between those two artifacts, is a notepad, on which I've tried to map out everything that I know about A.D. and everything that's been going on. Alison's abortion, and Ezra's connection to it. The note in Ezra's room that seemed to link him to the N.A.T. Club. Jenna's mysterious, self-involved role in all of this. And, the strangest of all, Ali telling me one thing about her pregnancy and her friends another. That one I just can't wrap my head around.

"It all comes back to Ezra," I mutter, tapping my pen against the paper. "It has to."

There's a sharp knock at the door and I leap to my feet, sure for a terrifying moment that it's A.D., that they're about to burst in here and kidnap me, too.

Assuring myself that a revenge-obsessed psychopath wouldn't be so polite, I cautiously pull open the door.

Spencer gives me a tight-lipped smile, which I don't return. "Spencer. I'm guessing you're here to yell at me some more?"

"No," she says bluntly. "I'm here to help you."

My gut twinges with disbelief, but I step aside and gesture for her to enter, more so we don't have to have this discussion in the hallway than anything. "An hour ago you were ready to castrate me for accusing Alison of lying. What changed?" I ask, folding my arms.

She glances down at the little investigative display I've set up on the floor, then says, "You're right. I didn't believe you. But after the others left, I started thinking about what you said. About Ezra, mostly…but about Ali, too."

"Oh?" I sit down on the sofa, still on high alert. Spencer and her friends are always coming up with crazy ideas to stop A. I'm not convinced this isn't her way of gaining my trust again, just so she can figure out what I'm "really up to," or whatever. "And what did you come up with?"

Spencer raises an eyebrow at my sarcastic tone, but leans into one hip and explains, "I always thought it was strange that Ezra took off at every opportunity to go and see Nicole once she returned from South America. Aria made it sound like he was just worried about her, but…it seemed to me like he was always disappearing at the most convenient times.

"And did you notice how he always seemed to be hanging around a few months ago, whenever we were dealing with A.D.?"

"No," I scoff, because it's not as if _I_ was ever included in any of those investigation sessions.

Her mouth twists slightly, and I wonder if she's about to apologize for always leaving my sister and me out of the group. She doesn't. "Well, he was always there. Always involved, not just with Aria, but with all of us, in a way he never was back when Charlotte was A."

I give her a small smile, grateful that she left out anything about Mona's time in the black hoodie. "So you're saying that you think he was always hanging around because he was behind the game the whole time?"

"All I'm saying is that during those three A-free months, I think all of us had dinner together once. Any interest Ezra had in spending time with anyone aside from Aria completely dissipated."

I nod, considering this. If what she's saying is true, it does seem odd. "And what about Alison?"

Spencer flinches. "My brain didn't even want to go there, but…I started thinking about the night we thought we were going to go down for Dunhill's murder. Right after we caught Aria working for A.D., the rest of us made a pact to stick together no matter what. Every one of us promised, _out loud,_ that we would never go against each other. Except…"

"Let me guess," I mutter, and we both say the name at the same time.

"Alison."

"Okay, so you suddenly believe me because Ali didn't make a promise?" I ask, still not convinced that she's being sincere. "Even I think that's a stretch."

"That's what I realized first," Spencer replies, moving to sit beside me on the couch. "But there's more. Every time the board game switched locations, it was either _in_ or _out_ of Alison's house. Sometimes, she claimed, within minutes of her leaving the room. I've wrangled that thing myself, it weighed a ton. It doesn't seem possible for anyone to move that fast."

"That _is_ weird," I admit, crossing one leg over the other. I was so disconnected from the other girls during what I like to call the "board game era" that this rare insight into what they were really dealing with is fascinating.

"I'm not saying that Alison is A.D.," Spencer blurts out, almost defensively. "I know she would never do that to us."

After everything she just told me, this declaration seems strangely dissonant. I lean forward and look at her head on. "Are you saying that because you believe it, or because the idea of it makes you feel guilty?"

"I trust Ali," Spencer retorts harshly. I reel back, suddenly wondering if I really want her help or not, and she sighs, softening. "Sorry. I _do_ think something's going on with her, but not… _that_. I think she's a pawn."

"Of who? Ezra?"

"Look, I believe you about the video. Obviously Alison doesn't want anyone to know that she really was pregnant when she went missing. If Ezra really was the father, who's to say he's not blackmailing her into helping him?"

"It fits," I admit, standing and walking into the kitchen. I pour two glasses of water and head back over to the couch. "And it's actually logical. But hasn't this whole thing been about Charlotte? Why would Ezra care about who killed her?"

Spencer thanks me as I hand her one of the glasses, then goes on, "We were out of Rosewood for years. Who knows what went on that we didn't know about?"

"He was in South America," I protest. It's not that I don't want to believe her, that Ezra really is A.D. But with my sister in potential danger, I'm not willing to jump on any bandwagon until I'm one hundred percent sure that we're headed in the right direction. "Wasn't he?"

"Just for a few years," she replies. "He came back to town long before any of us did."

"So you think he was manipulating Alison and Charlotte just like Rollins was?" I raise a dubious eyebrow. "That seems a little unlikely."

Spencer shakes her head. "That's not what I was thinking. I did a little digging before I came over here, into what Ezra was doing once he returned from Colombia. It turns out managing the Brew wasn't his only investment."

Her words are dark, and a chill runs up my spine. "What do you mean?"

"He's listed as a donor for the Radley. He helped convert it from the institution into the hotel."

A bit of my anticipation deflates. "So what? We know he has money. I don't really see how this means anything."

Spencer stands abruptly. "Viola, there's an entire section of Radley that was walled off and not touched by the contractors. Aria and I found it connected to the room that used to belong to Charlotte."

At her words, I rise to my feet as well. My heart has starting to pound again. Blocked off secret rooms in an old institution? This is beginning to sound like something out of a horror movie. "What's down there?"

"We didn't get a good look," Spencer admits. "But I think we need to go back. There might be something down there that can help us find out where Mona is."

My stomach turns. "She might even be down there herself," I mutter, and grab my phone from the table. "Whether or not this has to do with Ezra, you're right. We can't waste any more time."

"We'll go now," Spencer declares, glancing at her own phone.

I hesitate, my hand on the doorknob. "Have you heard from anyone?" I ask gently, hoping one of the other girls came around and realized that Alison is full of crap.

She raises her eyes from her phone and frowns at me. "No. They all went to bed as soon as they left the barn."

I take a deep breath, my mind flashing back to the angry, offended looks on their faces when they kicked me out. "Whatever. We don't need them." I push open the door, but glance back at Spencer, suddenly filled with gratitude that I don't have to do this alone. "Thank you. For believing me."

A smile plays at the corners of her mouth for a brief moment. "It's not about believing you, or Ali, or anyone. It's about ending this. Now let's go."


	13. Chapter 13

As always, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm so glad you guys are liking where this story is going, and I love love love reading your various theories and ideas. And I'm glad so see that my writing has inspired such strong emotions in some of you - that's always my goal!

Please continue letting me know what you think. Your reviews are what inspire me to keep going, and trust me, things are about to get wild.

Chapter 13

"So what are we going to do?" I call out, rushing a little to catch up as Spencer walks purposefully toward the Radley. "Just ask the front desk if we can make a quick trip up to room 214 and take a look around? I don't think they'll go for that."

"No," Spencer replies quickly. "The hole in the closet was boarded up almost immediately after Aria and I discovered it. But there's another way in." She suddenly veers, heading around the side of the building.

I nearly trip in my scramble to follow. "How? Isn't this room, like, in the middle of the hotel?"

"It's too hard to explain," she says over her shoulder, pushing through a few bushes. "You'll see in a second."

I exhale, blowing a few strands of hair out of my face, and carefully step through the shrubs until we reach the backside of the hotel. It's significantly darker back here, a striking contrast to the bright, welcoming front gates. I run my hand along the brick wall to guide myself as I follow Spencer.

Minutes pass, and I'm just starting to wonder if this is some kind of trick when she stops short. I leap back to avoid slamming into her. "Jesus. What – "

"We're here," she calls back, and steps to the side. I squint through the darkness at a metal door along the wall, barely visible between the thick bushes.

I roll my eyes, mostly to conceal the fear running through my veins. Everything about this situation is giving me the creeps. "I'm sure it's locked."

"It doesn't lock," Spencer replies, and sure enough, she swings the door open with ease. "Come on."

I gulp, rubbing at the goose bumps on my arms, but fold in my shoulders and walk into the building.

It's not as if I was expecting the Radley lobby, but I can't hide my surprise at the dismal, cement walls covered with pipes that await me. I hesitate, feeling like I'm in some kind of horror movie, but Spencer walks briskly and with purpose over to a large hole in the far brick wall.

Comforted by her confidence, I kneel down and squeeze myself through the hole after her. We find ourselves at the end of a narrow hallway, all brick walls and cold floor. I gaze around, shivering. "Why did they block this place off?"

"Because they didn't want anyone to see it," Spencer mutters. "Down that hallway is a room…with a switchboard."

She's looking at me with wide, serious eyes. This obviously has some kind of meaning, but I'm lost. "Three switches. The kind you use for…" She trails off and presses her hand to the bare skin of her opposing arm.

I stare at her, the pieces falling into place. "Electric shock. Just like – "

"In the dollhouse," she confirms, nodding gravely. "It looks like Radley didn't want the hotel contractors finding out about their little 'experiments.'"

My stomach is turning with disbelief. "Charlotte must have been one of their victims," I mutter. Spencer raises her eyebrows, and I add quickly, "Well, it's not like I feel bad for her. But obviously this is where she got her inspiration."

"That's not all," she answers, brushing gently past me. She walks over to a large metal filing cabinet that I hadn't noticed before, pushed up against the wall beside the hole that we entered through. "This was blocking the exit when Aria and I first came down here. And there wasn't one mite of dust on it."

"So what?" I ask, moving over and setting my hand on top of its cool surface. "You think Sara Harvey was sneaking down from her room to…do what?"

"I don't know why we didn't try to break into this before," Spencer says, ignoring my question and kneeling down in front of the file cabinet. "If Sara was hiding it down here, it must be important."

"It's not locked," I mutter. We meet each other's eyes for only a brief moment before she reaches out for the handle.

Her fingers are just brushing against it when a clang echoes around us. Spencer's hand flies back to her side, and I gasp, the hair on my arms standing straight up. "What the hell was that?"

Spencer freezes, looking at me warily. "There shouldn't be any other way down here."

The implications of her statement chill me to the bone. "So…does that mean someone's _already_ down here?" Spencer shushes me, but I can't help it. As another bang resonates down the hallway, I call out shakily, "Mona? Are you…it's me and Spencer."

Spencer shoots me a sharp look. "What are you doing?"

"Who's to say she's not being held down here?" I hiss. "There must have been a connection between Charlotte's old room and those switches for a reason."

I take a step down the hallway, irrationally ready to run down there and do whatever I have to, but just as Spencer grabs my arm, the last person I expected to see emerges around the corner.

"Alison?" I demand as the blonde steps toward us, a flashlight in her hand and a look of caution on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer asks, in a much gentler voice.

Ali stands tall, her expression immediately growing defensive. "I followed you here."

"What the hell?" I burst out, feeling my face heat up with anger. "So is this you giving yourself up? Admitting you have something to do with this?"

"The opposite, actually," Alison says stiffly. "I wanted to prove that I'm on your side. I could tell you didn't know what to think," she adds, turning to Spencer. "And when I saw your car pull out in the direction of Viola's apartment, I knew you didn't believe me."

"Ali, I do believe you," Spencer says, and I think back to our conversation in my living room and try not to make a face. "I don't think you're A.D. But I do think that Viola's telling the truth about…what happened with Ezra."

Alison sucks in a breath, and I mentally brace myself for the denials to start again, and the accusations to follow. I feel like screaming at her to get lost. All I want to do is find my sister and make sure she's safe – why does Ali have to keep dragging her own drama into everything, all the time?

I'm so convinced that she's about to put up a fight that I'm shocked when she sighs. "She is telling the truth. I was lying back in the barn. Ezra did get me pregnant, and he did help me get an abortion in Pittsburgh. If there's some video of it, I can't say I'm surprised," she adds in an undertone, rolling her eyes.

Spencer blinks in surprise, then gives me an almost superior look, as if to say, _see? I told you she's not up to anything._ "Ali, why wouldn't you tell us?" she asks, walking over and putting her hand on Alison's arm. "We would have helped you."

"He forced me not to," she insists. "Once he found out that I was fifteen, he obviously didn't want anyone to know that anything had happened. Even after I came back to Rosewood, I was too afraid to bring it up to anyone. And now that he's with Aria again…it's even more complicated."

Spencer reaches out and pulls her into a hug. I try not to gag. Even though everything she's saying makes sense, I've distrusted her for too long to suddenly make a complete turn-around. There's still something about all the lying that leaves a bad taste in my mouth, even though I probably would have done the same thing in her situation.

"I think Ezra's A.D.," Alison announces once Spencer pulls away. "Why else would this video you're talking about surface right at the same time that A.D. returns?"

"I agree with you," I mutter, reaching into my purse. My fingers close around the photograph of her and Shana, which I swiped on my way out the door just in case we needed it. "But I have one more question for you. I…Jenna gave this to me," I amend quickly, not about to tell Ali that I was snooping around in her desk. "She said you had it at school."

Alison snatches the picture from my hand, her jaw tightening. "How did Jenna get this?" she demands with narrowed eyes.

"I don't know," I stammer, not meeting Spencer's questioning gaze. "I guess she took it from your desk. But she wanted me to see it, and I've been wondering…why do you still have a picture of you and Shana?"

Spencer glances over Ali's shoulder at the picture. She frowns. "Ali?"

Alison shakes her head, gazing down at it. "We were so close. She was my best friend growing up. One of the only people I felt like I could really confide in."

Spencer laughs disbelievingly. "Ali, she tried to _kill you._ She tried to kill all of us!"

"I know," Alison says with a sigh, handing the photo back to me. "But the person in that theater wasn't the girl I grew up with. Jenna…corrupted something in her. And I didn't want to remember her that way. I wanted to have just one memory left of the Shana I used to know."

It's a persuasive story, and I can tell by the sympathetic look on Spencer's that she buys it. Apparently she's forgotten everything she told me about the mysteriously moving board game and Ali's failure to make the girls' promise. But I'm not too sure that I'm convinced.

And besides, there's still one component of Alison's story that I can't figure out – her current pregnancy. Telling me that she miscarried and then turning around and showing an ultrasound proving that she didn't? I've been turning it over in my mind all night and just can't come up with an explanation.

But maybe now I can get one out of her. "But what about – "

"How did you get down here?" Spencer interrupts, glancing down the hallway behind Alison. "I thought the hole in the closet was covered when you, Hanna, and Em went to check it out a few months ago?"

"It had just been plastered over," Ali explains. "I lost you guys when you snuck around the side of the building, but I figured I knew where you were going. I couldn't find the back door myself, but thankfully room 214 was vacant. I booked the room for the night and used the lamp by the bed to bust open the wall and climb down here."

I picture her banging a lamp into the wall and nearly burst out laughing. Everything about this night is so surreal. "Sure didn't take you very long," I mutter, and am just about to start in on her pregnancy again when she strides past me, over to the file cabinet.

"What's in here?"

"That's what we're about to find out," Spencer says darkly. "I'm sorry, Ali, but I think Charlotte may have been keeping even more secrets from you than we thought."

"I saw the switches back there, Spence," she replies quietly. "But that's no excuse for what she did."

Spencer reaches out and pulls open the top drawer of the cabinet. "That's weird."

My heart begins to pound. "What?"

She pulls out a flimsy photograph, the exact same size as the one that I just stuck back in my bag. "This is the only thing in here."

Ali and I crowd around her to get a look. It's a crisp but slightly faded photograph of two blonde girls. One is Charlotte, her eyes bright and her mouth open in a laugh. Her arm is looped around the shoulder of the second girl, with long curled hair and a slim figure. I widen my eyes, thinking for a moment that I'm looking at a teenage version of Alison, but then she gasps.

"Is that Sara Harvey?"

"Oh my God," Spencer breathes, and I realize that it is. It's Sara, with long hair and clear skin, looking about sixteen years old in a blue cami and white skirt.

Alison's brow furrows. Her face has gone pale. "I can't believe this."

I glance between the two of them, then squint at the photo, wondering if they're seeing something that I'm not. "What's the big deal? Sara was in the dollhouse, we know that she and Charlotte knew each other back then. This must just have been Sara's creepy little memory room or something."

"Viola, this isn't a selfie," Spencer explains, almost breathlessly. "Someone else took this picture."

It takes a second for this to sink in. But when it does, it's like a punch to the gut. Someone else was involved with Charlotte and Sara's game. "A.D.?"

Alison glances between us. "Ezra?"

Spencer presses her lips together. "No matter who it was, we can safely guess at one thing. Someone was playing Charlotte's game with her."

All of our backs are toward the narrow hallway, so there's no way to see it coming. And our talking must have covered any footsteps. Or maybe they were moving so silently that there weren't any.

But regardless, there's no warning. No time to run, or prepare to fight. Before any of us can say another word, something slams into the back of my head. Pain resonates through my entire body, and I fall to my knees, crying out. I catch a glimpse of a hand wrapping around my arm.

I hear two other faint screams, but everything goes dark before I'm able to see anything else.


	14. Chapter 14

I really did expect to get this chapter up sooner than this, I swear. But life has been keeping me so busy and I've barely had time to write. I do have a pretty solid plan for the next one, so hopefully it will be up soon, as long as I keep getting good feedback! Thanks as always to everyone who reviewed. Yes, Bethany's name will indeed pop up later on.

I'm glad you are all still enjoying! Please continue to let me know what you think. This chapter is where things really start to get dark and scary, and your feedback is what keeps me going!

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Chapter 14

I wake with a pounding headache. It feels like someone slammed a crowbar into the back of my head.

Maybe because someone _did_ slam a crowbar into the back of my head. Or at least a similarly hard object.

I groan and sit up, pressing my hand against the cool metal surface that I'm sitting on. It takes me a few full seconds to convince myself to open my eyes, and when I finally do, I'm staring through the bars of a cage.

Suddenly the ache in my head doesn't matter so much anymore. "What the…" I murmur, scrambling to my feet and gazing around at my surroundings.

I am, indeed, standing in a cage. A large one, extending from the floor to a few feet over my head. Metal bars about the width of my forearm encase me on all sides. It's just like the kind of thing you'd see in an animal shelter…except apparently _I'm_ the dog.

I appear to be in some sort of big empty warehouse, but I can't focus too much on the room overall before my attention is drawn by the cage to my right, identical to my own.

Spencer is lying on the floor, her eyes closed and her breathing even. I rush over to the edge of the cell and wrap my hands around the bars, staring over at her. "Spencer," I whisper urgently, looking her over for any visible injuries and thankfully not spotting any.

But even so, my breathing starts coming hard and fast. The sight of another person in here has seemingly jolted me into reality. This isn't a dream. This is actually happening. I'm really here.

"Viola," someone calls from behind me, and I whip around, my heart pounding.

Alison is standing in a cage on my other side, her eyes wide and her arms hanging loosely at her sides. "What is this place?" she breathes, meeting my gaze.

I shake my head, clueless, and stare back at her, wondering how I ended up being so wrong about her. Ali may be a liar, and not such a great friend, but I honestly was so sure that she had something to do with A.D. I almost feel bad that she ended up in this situation, but then all of the nasty things she's done to me, and my sister, and so many others flash through my head, and I can't quite push myself over the line to real remorse.

"I have no idea," I answer, my voice shaking. As I take another glance around the room, familiarity strikes me. I can't shake the feeling that I've been here before, but I can't exactly place where I know it from.

Alison walks in a full circle, running her hand along the metal bars of the cage she's trapped in. "Oh my god," she says after a moment, pointing. "Look."

Feeling another jolt of fear in my stomach at the tone of her voice, I follow her gaze. In the center of the room, about five feet from where our cages are lined up against the wall, is a simple wooden chair bolted to the ground. Beside it sits a metal box, with four wires protruding from it. I peer closely at the little tabs attached to the ends of the wires and my stomach lurches.

"Electrodes," I whisper, glancing back at Alison. "For electric shock."

She nods gravely. "And there's three more cells, see? Across the room."

She's right. Three cages, just like ours, have been placed in a row against the wall on the other side of the chair. I shiver. "Where were Aria, Hanna, and Emily when you last saw them?"

"Aria and Hanna went home, and Em fell asleep on the couch," Alison answers, her eyes still fixed on the cells across the room. "You don't think…"

"I don't think anything," I reply faintly, shaking my head. "I have no idea what's going on." I press a hand to my throbbing forehead and take another glance around the entire room. "God, this place seems so familiar. I know it from somewhere, it's…"

"The dollhouse." I turn slowly to find Spencer on her knees, her hands flat against the ground. She's staring out through the bars of her cage, her eyes a bit bleary but still wide and focused. "We're in the dollhouse."

My breath catches in my throat. As soon as she says it, I know it's true. This is the big empty room where we were forced to put together a prom. The room where we shut off the electricity and tried to break free. It was so long ago, the memories of the whole experience so repressed, that I didn't put the pieces together on my own.

"Wait, _this_ is the dollhouse?" Alison's mouth drops. "I thought it was closed off."

"The police boarded it up," I answer, my voice shaking. "But they couldn't do much more than that without destroying the land."

Spencer's already gotten to her feet and is walking around her small enclosure, peering out through the bars. I can tell just by the look on her face that her brain is whirling with escape ideas. "There used to be only one way in and one way out," she muses, more to herself than to us. "If that's still the case, the silo must be unblocked. We should be able to get out that way."

"Aren't you thinking a bit too far ahead?" I reply dryly. "There's something a little more immediate that we have to get out of."

"How did we even get in here?" Alison asks, feeling around the bars. "There's no door, or lock, or anything."

Spencer tilts her head back, gazing straight up. "There's a hinge," she declares after a moment. "The top must come off."

I can't suppress a groan. We're all moderately tall, but the cells extend to way over our heads, and the bars are thick and smooth. I can't see any feasible way of climbing all the way up there.

"I keep thinking this feels like Charlotte," I mutter. A pain between my eyes is starting to form, and I pinch the bridge of my nose with a grimace. "But…"

"What are we even doing here?" Alison blurts out, rubbing her arms. "What does A.D. want with us?"

"I think we're about to find out," Spencer says darkly, staring at something past us. I turn just as the sound of a door squeaking echoes around the empty space.

The metal door on the wall adjacent to us opens slowly, purposefully. Alison straightens up. Spencer steps forward. I clench my hands into fists. I can feel my body switching into fight or flight mode, but I realize after a brief second that I have nowhere to run, and no way to fight while I'm trapped in here.

Then my sister walks into the room.

I take in a sharp breath – _what the hell? –_ and am just about to starting freaking out when she turns toward me, and I get a better look. Her eyes are wide and terrified, her skin is so pale it's almost green, and there's a large gash across her cheek.

"Oh my god," I gasp, feeling distinctly like I'm going to be sick and trying to push down the urge, because that would make my current situation about a million times worse. "Mona. Are you okay?"

She rushes over to me and grabs my hands through the bars of the cage, looking dismayed but not overly surprised to see me. "Viola, how did they get you here?"

I shake my head, more concerned with what's happened to _her_ over the past twelve or so hours. "I don't know, we – "

 _"_ _Welcome. Willkommen. Bienvenidos."_

The four of us all jump as if electrocuted. And every nerve in my body _does_ feel like it's standing on end. If there's one sound I never wanted to hear again, it's that awful, mechanical voice. I never particularly thought that I had any PTSD-like symptoms from the dollhouse, but the blood rushing to my head tells a different story.

"Not that again," Spencer sighs, tipping her head back.

"I always wondered what you guys went through down here," Alison mutters, folding her arms and shifting back and forth. "Now I'm not so sure I really want to know."

I clutch my sister's hands tightly, and we exchange a fearful look. Going through the dollhouse once was bad enough – I don't think I have it in me to do this all again. "You're sure you really did kill Charlotte, right?" I ask in a low whisper, not really kidding.

Mona looks alarmed for only a moment before her eyes narrow. "Of course I'm sure."

So this really is someone else. Someone who was working with Charlotte back in high school, who knows about this bunker. My mind goes back to Ezra. I have a hard time picturing him sneaking into the hidden section of Radley, whacking Spencer, Alison, and me over the heads, and dumping us in here, but once I do, the image in my head is so vivid that I shudder.

I fix my eyes on one of the empty cages across the room. Would he really do this to Aria, too?

 _"_ _Player one, please proceed to your location."_

"Player one?" I repeat, wrinkling my nose. What is this, some kind of game?

Mona pulls her hands out of mine, taking a deep breath. I gape at her. "What are you doing?"

She shrugs, glancing up and to the left. I look that way too, and catch sight of a black surveillance camera that I hadn't noticed before, the exact same kind as the ones that watched our every moment the last time we were down here. Its red light is glowing. Either the police didn't remove these when they stripped down this place, or A.D. managed to hook up a new system.

"I'm player one," my sister says, and walks calmly to the center of the room. I glance at Spencer and Alison, watching nervously as she takes a seat in the wooden chair.

 _"_ _Player one, please attach your wires."_

My eyes drift to the electrodes connected to the metal box beside the chair. "No!" I cry, even though I know she has no choice. None of us ever did when we were down here.

For just a moment, Mona hesitates, looking up at the camera again. Her hands are shaking. As soon as she pauses, the speaker says it again. _"Player one, please attach your wires."_ Maybe it's just my imagination, but the voice sounds harsher this time, less patient.

I hold my breath as she places the sticky ends of the electrodes up and down her arms. As soon as the last one is in position, metal clamps shoot out of the arms of her chair and around her wrists, holding them down.

I'm going to lose it. My hands are gripping the bars of my cell so tightly that my knuckles are bright white. This is it. Revenge for Charlotte's death. A.D.'s going to kill my sister right in front of us.

"Viola," Spencer hisses, and pushes her hands forward in a "calm down" gesture. The request seems impossible, and I glare at her. If it was Melissa in this situation, she'd be acting the same way.

 _"_ _Player two. What is the time of Charlotte's death?_ " the automated voice asks cheerfully.

This is not what I'd been expecting. I turn my head from side to side, glancing at the two others in turn. "Who's player two?" Alison asks.

Naturally it's Spencer who figures it out. "There," she declares, pointing down. I lower my gaze. On the cool metal floor of my cage is a large, black, stenciled number three.

"It's talking to me," Ali determines. She looks toward the camera along the wall. "Um, Charlotte…it was – it was around four a.m."

 _"_ _Incorrect."_ The wires connected to the box light up bright red and Mona screams, her hands tightening into fists and her shoulders hunching forward. I yelp, banging on the bars of my cell in desperation, but I'm helpless to do anything. Spencer and Alison stare, looks of horror on their faces.

Finally the shock ends and the wires stop glowing. My sister collapses back against the chair, breathing hard. She looks at me and I shake my head, tears running down my face. I've been to hell and back in my life, but I can't remember ever being this distressed, so powerless.

 _"_ _The answer is 4:17 a.m."_

Alison rolls her eyes, scrunching up her face. "Wow, specific much?"

 _"_ _Player three,"_ the automated voice goes on way before I've gathered my bearings. _"What kind of flower was found with Charlotte's body?"_

All of these stupid questions would probably be getting on my nerves if I weren't so panicked. I screw my eyes shut, forcing myself to concentrate. Flowers. That's right. Mona placed flowers in Charlotte's hand to make her death look like a suicide. But for the life of me I can't remember what kind they were. I'm not sure if I ever even knew in the first place.

"Viola, come on," Mona urges, holding tight to the arms of the chair. "Please."

Spencer's mouthing something at me, but I've never been able to read lips. My heart is pounding so hard that even if she whispered the answer, I probably wouldn't be able to hear her.

I can't let my sister get hurt. I can't bear to watch it again. But I have no idea what to say, so I take a breath, cross my fingers behind my back for luck, and blurt out what seems like the safest, most likely option. "Um, p-pink. They were pink."

 _"_ _Incorrect."_

Again, the shock. I close my eyes this time, and press my hands to my ears, but I can still hear Mona's cry of pain as she's electrocuted. I open my eyes once it's over and focus on one of the metal bars in front of my face. I strongly consider slamming my head against it and knocking myself out. It would probably be less painful than this.

 _"_ _The answer is purple."_ I fight the ridiculous urge to laugh. Purple? Of course, the most random color. _"Player four. What is the cause of Charlotte's death?"_

I hold my breath, but Spencer doesn't even hesitate, her voice barely shaking as she responds promptly, "Injury to the cervical spine. Caused by a metal rod protruding from the wall in the church's belfry."

There is such a long pause that I begin to wonder if the speaker system in here has broken. But then the voice crackles to life once again. _"Correct. Round one complete."_

 _Round one?_ I mouth to Spencer, raising my eyebrows. But I can only focus on that for a moment before the clamps around Mona's wrists release, sinking back into the chair's arms. It's really over – for now, at least.

"Thank god," I breathe as she stands slowly, holding onto the back of the chair for support. "Are you okay?"

"I – I think so," she answers, and is just taking a step in my direction when another command is issued.

 _"_ _Player one, please return to your room."_

"No," I say sharply. "Don't go anywhere."

"Viola, I have to," Mona says, looking toward the door. "I've been here before, and so have you. We both know what happens when you don't obey orders."

"That was with Charlotte," I protest weakly, but even as the words are leaving my mouth, I know how untrue they are. This may not be the same A, but it's becoming increasingly clear that they play by the same rules.

 _"_ _Player one, please return to your room."_

"Only round one, remember?" Mona says quietly. "I'm sure I'll be back. Just be careful."

"You too," I mumble, reaching out and managing to grasp her hand briefly. I lower my voice and add, "We're going to find a way out of here. I promise."

She nods and walks slowly from the room. Once the door slams shut, I let out a cry of frustration and press a hand to my head. "Oh my god. I can't believe this."

Alison sticks her hand between the bars, but we're separated by a good few feet, and she doesn't even come close to reaching me. "I know this is bad," Spencer says in an undertone, her eyes sympathetic. "But it'll be okay. It always is."

Her words are comforting, but they don't even touch the petrified, dark pit in my stomach. I shake my head, glancing between the two girls. "I don't think so. Not this time. This is the revenge that A.D.'s been waiting months for…this is where it's going to end."


	15. Chapter 15

And we're back! Thank you as always to everyone who left reviews. Reading your thoughts makes my day.

Guest - I honestly don't have a good estimate as to how many chapters are left. Right now I'm thinking this might go to around twenty-five or so, but I don't want to limit myself to a specific number!

Nel - When I began posting I had the first five or so chapters written out, but since I've gotten so busy with school, work, and general life, I usually write a chapter the week before I post it. Yes, Viola was in the dollhouse! And I'm not going to comment at all on whether A.D. is one person or multiple, but at this point, anytime a character refers to A.D. as "they," that's in reference to not knowing whether they are a male or female, not plural.

Please let me know what you think of this chapter! There's a pretty big reveal of sorts and it may be kind of controversial, so I'm curious to see what people think.

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Chapter 15

The first thing I feel when I wake is sunlight on my face.

The events of the past several hours flash through my mind, and I sit up quickly, sure that this must be a trick. Artificial sunlight, or something. That happened the last time I was trapped down here – why wouldn't A.D. utilize it as well?

But a brief look around tells me immediately that I'm not in the dollhouse. I'm lying on a bench beside a tall brick apartment building.

My mind is spinning so fast that my head feels like it's going to fall right off. I pinch myself hard on the arm and yelp. I'm not dreaming.

So…what gives? Was everything that happened last night a dream? And where did it start? With confronting Alison at Spencer's barn? Sneaking into Radley? Waking up in a cage in Charlotte's old life-size dollhouse?

I shake my head, my brow furrowing in confusion. Everything about last night is too clear. There's no way it didn't happen.

Spencer, Alison, and Mona. Where are they? Feeling another flood of panic, I swing my legs off of the bench. My ankle smacks against one of its legs, and I wince, waiting for the pain, but none comes, and all I hear is a metallic clang that does not sound anything like I would expect.

I pull my leg onto the bench and tug up the edge of my pants. There's a thick metal ring locked around my ankle. I stare at it, running my finger around it in confusion until I notice the blinking red light on its side and realize what this is: A tracking device.

"What the hell?" I mutter, wrapping my fingers around it and trying to pull. It's wrapped so tightly around my ankle that pain shoots up my calf, and I wince, releasing. Obviously last night was indeed real. And this game isn't over.

I glance around, mystified, until I notice a folded piece of paper on the bench beside me. I reach for it, my hand trembling slightly, and hold my breath as I read the words, written in neat, typewriter-like print.

 _Your assignment is Hanna. You have one hour._

Below the words are two tiny white pills, taped to the paper. I stare at Hanna's name until my vision blurs. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what I have to do, but I'm trying to deny it as hard as I can.

We noticed the three empty cages yesterday. I even commented on Aria, Hanna, and Emily. And now A.D. wants us to bring them there ourselves.

I run my finger over the little pills, gazing at the building beside me and realizing with a start that it's the complex that Hanna lives in.

I don't want to do this. I don't want to trick Hanna, I don't want to drug her, and I especially don't want her to end up in the bunker with me. She may have turned against me when it came to Alison, but I'm not a monster. I could never do that.

A chime sounds from the back pocket of my jeans, and I leap off of the bench, my heart pounding as I reach back. It's a cell phone. A small, clunky black phone, much older than my regular one. Its screen is lit up with a text message from "unknown."

 _Do it now. Or your sister dies._

Bile rises in my throat, and I choke it back down with a cry of fear. I have no choice. A.D.'s threatening to kill Mona. I can't take that risk. I would do anything to keep that from happening.

Even something as horrible as this. Picturing my sister the way I saw her yesterday – pale and terrified, trapped in that electric chair – I take a deep breath, slip the phone and the pills into my pocket, and march into the apartment building.

As I take the elevator up to Hanna's floor, a frightening thought strikes me. A.D. must have been able to tell that I was hesitating, that I wasn't going to do it. That means they must be watching.

And if Spencer and Alison are being forced to do the same thing right now, with Aria and Emily…A.D. must be able to watch all of us at the same time. The idea of going up against three different people, all psychotic and bent on destroying us, makes me want to collapse with exhaustion.

Just as my knees are starting to go weak, the doors slide open, and I force myself to walk down the hall until I'm standing in front of Hanna's loft. I've already knocked twice before I realize how stupid I am. All I have are two unknown pills in my pocket. How am I going to give them to her? Will she even let me in?

And even worse: What happens if I fail?

But the door flings open before I put any thought into it, and Hanna's standing in front of me. At least, I _think_ it's Hanna. Her hair is limp and frizzy in the back, she's wearing absolutely no makeup, and she has on a plain white tank top and black yoga pants.

"Hey," I blurt out, more shocked by this than by anything else that's happened to me since I woke up. I haven't seen Hanna this disheveled in…maybe ever.

"Hey," she replies flatly, folding her arms. "What are you doing here?"

My brain can't seem to form a coherent answer. "I, um…I – are you…I mean, is this a bad time, or…?"

"Viola." Hanna cocks an eyebrow and looks at least a little like herself for the first time. "What do you want?"

I hold back a sigh. Maybe the big fight from last night (was it last night? I don't even know what day it is anymore) is still weighing on her. "I came to…to apologize," I improvise. "For what I said to Alison, and to you guys."

Hanna throws her arms out at her sides. "You made up fake evidence just to blame – " She breaks off and shakes her head. The anger on her face melts into a blank sort of apathy. "You know what? Forget it. It doesn't matter anymore."

She goes to shut the door in my face, but I shoot my hand out and force it back open. The look in her eyes is so empty that all thoughts of A.D.'s task momentarily fly out of my mind. "What do you mean, _'anymore'_?"

I'm expecting her to blow up at me again, but she just sighs and releases the door, holding up her left hand. It's bare. "Caleb left last night."

I stare at her naked ring finger, my mind blank. "Left, like – "

"Like gone. Like, took his laptop and his clothes and went to stay in a hotel. Just not The Radley. My mom wouldn't give him a room." She laughs harshly and steps aside.

I take that as an invitation to enter. "Oh my god," I murmur, gazing around the room as if looking for tangible proof that he's left. Even though they've only been married for three months, I can't picture Caleb not being here, with Hanna. They seemed so happy, so right together, even after everything that happened with Spencer.

"I'm so sorry," I breathe, and the words feel hollow and cliché, obviously not even touching the pain that she's feeling. "Is he…is it over for…you know, for good? Where's the ring?"

Hanna nods toward the bedroom. "In my nightstand." She sinks down onto the orange couch and I join her. I feel the phone and the pills in my pocket and wince, wondering how much of my hour is up. Did it begin when I woke up, or when I actually walked in here? "I haven't decided what I'm gonna do with it yet. Screw him if he thinks he's getting it back."

I lean against the couch, fiddling uncomfortably with my hands. Back in my freshman year of high school, dealing with something like this would be easy. Me and Mona and Hanna would sit in Hanna's room with trashy magazines and reality TV for hours, and Hanna would rant and rave, and Mona would put aside her "no dairy ever" rule for a few gallons of ice cream, and I would just be glad that they weren't kicking me out of the room for once.

But now? Even without everything that happened the other day in Spencer's barn, my relationship with Hanna is so withered that I can't find anything to say that won't sound wrong.

"What happened?" I settle on, speaking quietly.

Hanna gives me an appraising look, like she's still not quite sure if I'm trustworthy or not. But apparently this means more to her that me potentially lying about one of her best friends, because after a moment she takes a breath and averts her eyes. "It started last night at dinner," she confesses, and I make a mental note that it's been at least a day and a half since I was kidnapped. "Caleb…brought up the baby thing again."

I lean forward, raising my eyebrows. "Did you tell him what we talked about?"

She nods slowly, staring straight ahead. "I told him I wanted to focus on my career. That I'm not ready for kids. And it just…spiraled into a big huge mess."

I let out a breath. "Wow. I'm…kind of surprised, honestly. I didn't realize having kids this early would be a deal-breaker."

"It's more than just having a baby, Viola. This didn't start with that. It started back in New York."

I remember hearing about that, months ago – their fight in their apartment over Hanna's all-consuming job, Hanna leaving for an event and having a change of heart only to find Caleb already gone. I resist the urge to snort. At least he had the decency to actually break up with her in person this time.

But they haven't lived in New York in years. "What?" I ask, shifting so I can no longer feel my A.D.-issued phone pressing into my thigh. "I thought that was why you broke up in college."

"It was," Hanna confirms. She's rubbing her left ring finger absently. I wonder if it feels weird not having the wedding band there, if she can still sense it, like a phantom limb. "We didn't want to live the same lives. We didn't have the same futures in mind."

I fold my arms, still confused. "But didn't you talk about all of that? When you got back together last fall?"

Hanna sighs heavily. "No. So much was going on, I wasn't even thinking about all that stuff. Last night's the first time I think we both realized that the problem had never really gone away. It was just…hiding."

"It _does_ seem similar," I admit. "You want to focus on your career, he wants to settle down and start a family. That's not exactly compatible."

"I know," Hanna groans, pushing her hair out of her face angrily. I lean back, wondering if she's about to lash out at me, if I've said the wrong thing, but then she deflates and rests her head in her hands. "I thought this time would be different," she whispers, sounding utterly defeated.

I rest my hand gingerly on her back. "I'm so sorry," I say again, glancing furtively at the clock on the wall. Time is running out. My heart begins to speed up again. "But maybe…maybe he'll come around. He might just need to think things through for a while."

Hanna stands abruptly, snorting. "My ring isn't the only one in my nightstand. He left his behind. It's over."

I'm too stunned to respond. I know that Caleb and Hanna's relationship has never been a totally smooth ride, not even in high school, but to think that their marriage is really ending…it's insane. I promise myself that, if I ever escape from A.D.'s clutches, I won't let this happen to me. I'll have these hard conversations with any future boyfriend I have. I'll make sure we're on the same page regarding what we want with our lives.

"Maybe this is for the best?" I ask shakily, getting to my feet as well and touching Hanna's arm. She gives me a hurt look, and I continue quickly, "I mean, it sucks, obviously. But now you can start your fashion business, build a name for yourself, without feeling like you're betraying Caleb. You can actually do what _you_ want."

Hanna rolls her eyes and I can tell that she's not really taking me seriously. But she sinks back down onto the couch and sighs again. "I'm not really ready to think about that yet."

"Of course not," I amend, and take a few steps into the connected kitchen. My heart is pounding. It's time. "Why don't I make us some tea?"

"Sure," she agrees, to my relief, and once I have two mugs of boiling water and tea bags in front of me, I pull the two white pills from my pocket. I crush them deftly under the heel of my hand and sprinkle the dust into one of the mugs, and swirl it gently until it's all dissolved.

Then I cross the room, feeling guiltier than I ever have in my life. I hold the spiked mug in my hand for a moment too long, unable to hand it over until I picture my sister again. I'm doing this to save her. We'll all find a way out of this together.

"What's that?" Hanna asks once I've settled back on the couch beside her. She's staring at the tracking device on my ankle, peeking out from under the cuff of my jeans.

"Um." I shift, crossing my legs to hide it behind my other ankle. "Nothing. It just tracks my steps, you know."

Hanna nods and takes a long sip of tea. I watch her carefully as she sets the mug down and says, her words just the slightest bit slurred, "So…what was up with the other night? All that stuff you said about Ali…and…and Mona, is she – really missing?"

I take in a breath, hesitating. What should I say? Does it really matter at this point? "Uh, well…"

But before I can figure out the right words, Hanna's eyes flutter closed, and she slumps back against the couch, out cold.


	16. Chapter 16

I am seriously the worst. I'm so sorry it took me this long to update - I'd been doing so well with my new chapters every week! But I've been so busy that I honestly haven't had any time to sit down and write, and unfortunately that's going to be continuing. I'm hoping to get the next chapter up a lot sooner, but please keep reviewing! Your comments give me more motivation to write, and if I don't think that people are reading, I'm not going to feel that I need to hurry up and write a new chapter, you know what I mean?

Anyway, this one is pretty freaking instrumental, so hopefully it makes up for the wait. Let me know what you think!

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Chapter 16

I have no memory of what happened after Hanna collapsed, but when I wake again, I'm trapped back in that cold, awful cage. A.D. must have been watching, and did something to me as soon as I carried out my duty. I rub my temples, wondering why my mysterious captor didn't just kidnap Hanna themselves, if they were there to begin with. But I guess half the fun is forcing us to do their dirty work.

I raise myself up slowly and survey the room, noticing several changes. The three cells across the room are now occupied by – predictably – Hanna, Aria, and Emily. A seventh cage has been added along the far wall, adjacent to me, and my sister is standing inside of it.

Relieved that at least she's not strapped to the electric chair anymore, I scramble to my feet. Everyone else is already awake and speaking in undertones, eyes occasionally flitting to the security camera in the corner.

"The tea," Hanna blurts out suddenly, cutting Spencer off right in the middle of a rambling sentence about using momentum to tip over one of the cages. She's staring at me with wide eyes. "Ali said you, her, and Spencer have been trapped here for a few days. You put something in my tea, when you came to visit me, didn't you?"

I flinch instinctively. I followed A.D.'s orders to drug Hanna because I couldn't see any alternative, but the accusation sounds so harsh that I feel a pit in the bottom of my stomach. "Yes," I admit in a whisper, and Hanna's mouth falls open.

"Han," Spencer says quietly, "it shouldn't be that surprising. We already talked about Ali and me drugging Aria and Emily."

Surprised, I turn to the two other new captives. "And you guys were okay with that?"

Aria shrugs, hugging herself tightly. "We know you didn't have a choice."

I glance over at Spencer and Alison. "Did A.D. threaten you guys with – "

"Mona's death?" Spencer nods, locking eyes with my sister, who looks kind of touched. "Neither of us was going to let that happen."

I raise my eyebrows, shocked. I know that Spencer has always had a sort of grudging respect for Mona, despite their unsteady relationship, but I can't believe that Ali would put Emily in harm's way to save the person who killed her sister.

Maybe she really has changed. Maybe I really have been wrong about her this whole time…even if I still think her whole real/not-real pregnancy is messed up.

Emily crosses her arms uncomfortably. "Does it really matter anymore?" she asks. "What are we gonna do?"

Aria lets out a disbelieving laugh. "I can't believe we're back here again."

Hanna wrinkles her nose and gazes toward the door to the room. "Do you think our copycat bedrooms are all still here?"

"The police removed everything after we were rescued," Mona reminds her. "And they sealed the door shut."

I roll my eyes. "Obviously not very well."

"Okay," Spencer says curtly, getting right down to business. "So like I was saying, considering the size and height of these cages, I think that if we use the full weight of our bodies, we could – "

"No need," Alison breathes suddenly, cutting her off. She's staring through the metal bars of her cell at something on the floor.

Spencer cranes her neck, trying to see around me. "What do you mean?"

I lean down a little, and then I see it, too. A small screwdriver is lying on the ground, just a foot away from Alison's cell. My heart leaps into my throat. Has that been there the whole time?

"Can you reach it?" Emily asks breathlessly, her eyes widening.

"I think so." Alison kneels down and sticks her arm between the bars of the cage, stretching hard.

"Was that left behind from the last time we were here?" Aria asks. "From the prom?"

"No," Spencer answers immediately, because of course she would remember. "The ones we used when we set up the prom were bigger than that."

"Then what the hell is it for?" Hanna bursts out, watching Ali grimace as she presses herself against the side of the cage, struggling to wrap her fingers around the screwdriver.

"Wait a minute." Mona's examining her own cell, running her hands along one corner. "There are screws along this edge. It looks like this whole panel might come unattached."

I step forward, noticing the same thing in the cage that I'm trapped in. "This must be how A.D. is getting us in and out of here."

"And they must have dropped that screwdriver when they brought us here today," Spencer concludes.

"Got it!" Alison cries, pulling her arm back and standing. She holds the tool victoriously in her hand for just a moment before hurrying to unscrew the bolts keeping her trapped. The room goes silent with anticipation, and I hold my breath, shooting furtive glances up at the security camera. If A.D.'s watching us right now, what's to stop them from bursting in here and stopping Ali from escaping? This whole plan might be over before it even starts.

But within minutes Alison has gotten the screws loose and is swinging open the front panel and stepping out of her cage. She runs straight to Emily first, of course, and hands her the screwdriver. "Hurry," Hanna urges, bouncing up and down on her heels.

It's the tensest ten minutes of my life, but after what feels like hours, Spencer's handing me the tool, and my hands are shaking so badly that I'm not even sure I'll be able to fit it into the screws, but I manage, and minutes later I'm walking out of my cell. It's not freedom, but it sure as hell feels like we're one step closer.

Once Mona frees herself last, the seven of us crowd together in the center of the big, empty room. "Okay," Spencer says in an undertone. "We don't have much time. A.D. could come in here any minute."

"That silo thing," Hanna blurts out. "Maybe it's not locked."

We exchange hopeful glances. It's unlikely, but it's worth a shot. We speed out of the warehouse and into the chillingly familiar dank hallway. Alison leads the pack down the hall, running fast enough toward the exit that I can't help but wonder again about the status of her pregnancy.

But now's not the time to ask, and honestly, I'm glad someone's taking the lead. I resist the urge to close my eyes as we run past the metal doors that used to lead into our bedrooms, all those years ago. Yellow police tape is crumpled along the floor, and most of the movie theater-styled lights along the walls are cracked and broken.

The ladder leading to the only known exit in this place is coming up on our left when Alison suddenly stops short. "Oh my god."

I nearly slam into her. My breath hitches at the fear in her tone. "What?"

She points, and we all follow her gaze. The ladder is still in place, secured to the wall and leading straight upward, but the door that used to sit at the top of the silo is gone. Not locked, not sealed shut, but just…gone. Like it was never there in the first place.

"Okay, there was totally a door there last time," Hanna sputters.

"How is that possible?" Aria exclaims.

"It's A," Mona mutters, folding her arms. "Anything's possible."

"Okay, well, A.D. must have gotten us down here somehow," Spencer rationalizes, waving her hands around, her eyes bouncing from left to right. "So there must be another exit somewhere."

"What about the vault?" Emily suggests. "Where we found that video of Charles and Mrs. D?"

"Charlotte," Alison corrects her, but Spencer's nodding thoughtfully.

"It's our best shot. Come on, let's hurry."

They turn back, but I stop short. My eyes focus on a door halfway down the hallway, the one that I believe used to lead to the creepy, old-fashioned playroom. The door is shut, but a light is shining from underneath it. "Guys, wait," I call. "There's a light on in that room."

"The only other light down here was in the room where we were trapped," my sister points out, leaning down to get a better look.

"So what does this mean?" I ask in a hushed voice. "Someone else is down here?" I grab her hand, suddenly feeling a wave of fear.

"More of A.D.'s victims?" Spencer asks. A shadow of anxiety passes across her face, and I know she's thinking about Toby, and the possibility that he could be held captive down here as well.

Aria gives her a dark look. "Or A.D.?"

"Any of that," I say with a shrug, trying to get some of the adrenaline back that I'd felt just a few moments ago. "But there might also be an exit. We should check it out before it's too late."

Alison shakes her head, brushing her hair behind her ears. "I don't think that's a good idea. What if A.D. really is behind that door?"

"Perfect!" Hanna exclaims. "I don't know about you guys, but I am _so_ ready for a little ass-kicking right now."

Emily wrinkles her brow. "Maybe Ali's right," she says, linking her arm through the blond-haired girl's. "Maybe we shouldn't risk it."

My heart is beginning to pound again. "The last time we were down here, we came face to face with A, and we ran. I'm not going to do that again," I say. I sound much more confident than I feel, but I take a deep breath and stride over to the door, not letting myself think about the consequences.

I rest my hand on the knob and glance back. The others are crowded behind me, watching with guarded, wary expressions. Aria is biting her lip. Alison's face has gone completely pale. "Do it," Spencer whispers, walking over to stand beside me. Not feeling so alone anymore, I turn the knob and swing the door open in one quick motion.

My whole body tenses as I brace myself, but there's no one inside. "No A.D.," I call back as I follow Spencer carefully into the room.

Our captor may not be in here, but what I do see makes my blood run cold anyway. All of the bunk beds, toys, and games are gone. File cabinets are shoved in the corner, bursting with files and papers. Several wide computer monitors sit on a desk, broadcasting every empty room in the dollhouse, obviously how A.D. has been keeping an eye on us. Our tracking devices, which I just realized I am no longer wearing, are sitting on the desk as well.

But the scariest part of the room is the wall just opposite the door. There are seven photographs side-by-side, one of each of us, and below them, loads and loads of typed, meticulous information. Where we live, where we work…even everyone in our lives. I squint at my column. Among the information listed is my trip to the hospital to see Wren, my new job at the Brew, and a photograph of me sneaking around Alison's classroom, digging through her desk. I swallow hard.

"Oh my god," my sister whispers.

"This is an evil lair if I've ever seen one," Hanna adds.

"We should get out of here," Alison says shakily.

"No," Spencer protests. She's gazing around with wide, excited eyes, obviously in her element. "We need to look around. We might be able to find out who's doing this to us." She turns to the rest of us, speaking quickly. "Han, Em, you guys watch the door in case A.D. or anyone shows up. Mona, try and see if you can find anything on the computers. Ali, you and I will – "

"I don't know what you think you're going to do," a deep voice speaks from the doorway behind us. I nearly jump out of my skin, terror coursing through my veins as I begin to realize that there are no men among us, no one with that low of a voice. The seven of whirl around, and come face to face with someone in a black sweatshirt, dark jeans, and a very familiar face.

I can practically feel the color drain from my face as I grab my sister's arm, taking in the person in front of us. "What the hell?"

" _You?_ " Spencer gasps.

Aria shakes her head. "No," she says, the word coming out as a feeble whisper.

"But I can assure you," Ezra Fitz says darkly, stepping into the room, "it's too late."


	17. Chapter 17

I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get the next chapter written by this weekend, but I reached 100 reviews this past week and couldn't wait to update! I can't believe this story has gotten so many readers and so much feedback - thank you as always to my wonderful reviewers, and special shoutout to Nel for being the author of my hundredth comment!

Threecankeepasecret - I'm always excited to get new reviewers, thanks for your comment! I have to say that I'm in love with your Ezra is A story. Everyone should go check it out, it's fabulous.

Please continue to let me know what you think! The intensity is only going to keep going up from here and I'm hoping I'll be able to continue updating once a week or so!

Chapter 17

 _I was right._

It's a horrible thought, and totally not what should be running through my head as the seven of us huddle together, staring at Ezra/A.D. But I can't help it – maybe it's the shock.

There's fear and horror coursing through my veins, but there's a little glimmer of pride mixed in too, deep down. The video from the hospital, the N.A.T. Club, the connection to Radley…I put the pieces together, and I put them together correctly.

If only I'd actually done something about it before now.

"Ezra, what are you doing here?" Aria speaks up. Her voice is surprisingly strong, and she's the only one of us that doesn't look terrified. Like he wandered down here to save us, or something.

"You shouldn't be in here," Ezra says, ignoring her. His voice is dark and low, very unlike his usual jolly tone. My spine tingles with nerves.

"It really is you," Emily breathes.

"You were right, Viola," Alison mutters.

Aria whips her head back and forth between them, her eyes widening. She looks Ezra up and down and whispers in a choked voice, "No. No, this…Ezra, what's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Aria," he says, not sounding very sorry at all, even kind of irritated. "I didn't plan for you to find out this way."

She's still shaking her head, staring at him like she's in a trance. "Find out about what?"

Spencer grabs her hand as Ezra laughs, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, Aria? God, I shouldn't be surprised. You didn't figure it out before, of course you wouldn't be able to now."

"What do you mean, _before?_ " Mona asks.

Hanna's mouth drops open. "Are you saying this is all about another freaking _book?_ "

Ezra gazes past us, around the room filled with information and surveillance equipment. "Rosewood's biggest reformed criminal commits suicide on her first night home. Or was it suicide?" he says quietly. His voice has taken on an almost dreamy quality, but his eyes are dark. It's the same darkness, I realize with a jolt, that I saw in him the day he caught me in his Ravenswood lair, all those years ago. My stomach sinks.

It hits me once again. Ezra is A.D. My theory was right. But the pride that I felt just moments ago has been replaced by fear. I've never wanted so badly to be wrong.

"That's not what our book is about," Aria protests dazedly. Her hand is limp in Spencer's. "It's about Nicole. About us."

Ezra laughs again, harshly. "You think some insipid love story was going to earn me millions? Give me the status as an author that I deserve? That was a cover, Aria. No." He shakes his head, one corner of his mouth turning up. "My writer's block dissolved the moment I heard the breaking news that Charlotte DiLaurentis' body was found, mangled, outside Rosewood's church." My sister turns green, and I loop my arm around her shoulders tightly. "It's the perfect murder mystery."

"So what?" Spencer scoffs, looking revolted. "You thought you were just going to solve the case and make it into a bestseller?"

Ezra grins. I feel sick. "There's no better story than one that comes from the truth."

"Then why are you still doing this?" Mona demands, pulling away from me and gesturing around the room. "I killed Charlotte, you knew that months ago. Why not just write your book and be done with it?"

"Yeah." I nod, my brain getting fuzzy. Something's missing here, and I can tell by the looks on the other girls' faces that they feel the same way. "Why start the game again, after all this time?"

Ezra shakes his head. "You confessed, you went to a sanitarium. Where's the climax there? The exciting conclusion?"

"The ending wasn't satisfying enough for you," Spencer spits out. "So you're writing your own?"

"Settle down," he tells her, smiling once again. "We're not at the end just yet. Now – "

"Wait." Aria breaks away from Spencer and steps forward. Her hands are shaking visibly, and her face has gone deathly pale. I glance down. She's twisting her engagement ring around and around her finger. "Was any of it – _us –_ real? Ever?"

"You're wonderful, Aria," Ezra replies immediately, his voice quiet. But that same darkness still lurks behind his eyes. "I mean that. But you know what they say. You can only have one true love. And you're just not mine."

I feel a rush of bile in my throat. He's talking about his writing like it's a person. Aria's face crumples, and she stumbles back. Emily and Spencer reach out, grabbing her arms and holding her tight. I wonder if this is how she felt back in high school, when she discovered all of the research for the first book he was writing, about Alison. Somehow I feel like this is way worse.

Ezra looks around at all of us. I exchange an anxious glance with Hanna. He's crazy. He's actually crazy. This really is the dollhouse – and Charlotte – all over again. Except Ezra's a lot bigger. "Now," he repeats in a much too calm voice. "You're all going to leave this room, and get back in your cells."

"Yeah, right," Hanna snorts.

"In case you didn't notice, there are seven of us here," Alison adds, lifting her chin. "And only one of you."

Ezra stares at her for a long moment, considering her words with an unreadable expression. "You're right," he says slowly, at last, "but I think I still have the advantage." Then he reaches into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulls out a small, sleek, black handgun.

Emily gasps. Hanna cries out. Aria looks like she's about to faint. I can feel blood rushing to my head as he points the gun toward us. "You wouldn't," I gasp, picturing the man in front of me standing beside the blackboard at Rosewood High School, wearing a sweater vest and talking about metaphors and thematic elements. It's like they're two entirely different people. With narrowed eyes, mouth set in a thin, straight line, and the gun in his hand, the Ezra Fitz in this room is unrecognizable.

The thought runs through my head again. _I should have done something._

"Why not?" he asks, shrugging in response to my question. "It would be a hell of an ending." He gestures with the gun to the hallway. "Move."

"No," Aria says weakly.

Ali links her arm through Aria's. "Aria, we don't have a choice."

We all exchange conflicted, horrified looks, but she's right – there's nothing we can do. Not when he has a gun and we're completely unarmed. I take a deep breath. Mona takes my hand, and I reach for Hanna's on my other side. The seven of us file out of the room hand-in-hand, walking with our heads down back into the big warehouse and into our cells. We watch in silence as Ezra follows us in and circles the room, slamming the doors of our cages shut. He picks the little screwdriver that we used for our escape off of the ground and sticks it in his pocket, along with the gun.

I mutter a curse word under my breath. Why didn't we think to bring the screwdriver with us? At least then maybe one of us could try for another escape.

Ezra moves to stand in the center of the room, turning to glance at all of us in turn. "Now that my cover's blown," he says with a wry smile that sends a chill up my spine, "I guess I can ask the questions in person." He walks over to the wooden chair and taps on its back. "Who wants to play next?"

The tense silence that follows is thick. I grip the bars of the cage and look around at the others. Of course no one is going to volunteer. After seeing what my sister went through a few days ago, you'd be crazy to.

Ezra gazes around at each of us. "Well, one Vanderwaal sister took her turn," he says darkly, his eyes landing on me. "How about the other one?"

I freeze. My heart just about drops into my stomach. No. I'm not ready for this. I can't. "Let me go again," Mona blurts out. "Instead of her."

"No!" I cry, but Ezra just shakes his head and swings open the door to my cell. He grabs my arm and practically shoves me into the chair. Then he kneels down and attaches the electrodes to my arms. Just as expected, as soon as they're all in place, my wrists are clamped down to the chair's arms. My heart is pounding so wildly that I fear one electric shock will be enough to stop it. I close my eyes and take deep breaths, trying to calm my body down. I can do this. It'll just be for a few minutes. And then I'll hopefully never have to go through it again.

"You didn't have anything to do with what happened to Charlotte," Ezra says, walking around to stand in front of the chair. I cut my eyes to the right. Aria is sitting on the floor of her cage, her face hidden in her knees. Her body is trembling, and I wonder if Ezra plans on hooking her up to this insane torture device, too. "So this round's going to go a little differently." He pauses, for dramatic effect, I guess. I want to scream at him to get on with it already. "Did you, or did you not, break into Alison's classroom several days ago and go through her desk?"

I laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of this before I can stop myself. "What is this, some kind of interrogation?"

Ezra raises an eyebrow. "Careful," he says, and pulls a shiny remote out of the pocket of his jeans. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that it controls the box that the electrodes are hooked up to. "Wouldn't want to make this any worse for yourself. Answer the question."

My mouth goes dry. I glance at Ali out of the corner of my eye. There's concern and fear on her face, like everyone else, but I swear I spot a bit of intrigue in her expression as well. Like she actually does want to know the answer.

I want to lie. So, so badly. But Ezra's A.D., I remind myself just as the word "no" is on the tip of my tongue. He's been watching me, watching all of us. He already knows the answer. And I'll do anything to keep from being electrocuted.

I dig my nails into my palms and sigh. "Yes," I whisper, and Ali's brow furrows. I turn my head to look at her fully. "I thought you might be involved with this, and I was looking for proof. Jenna didn't find that picture of you and Shana. I did."

"I can't believe you went through my stuff," Alison murmurs, folding her arms.

"Ali, she had good reason," Spencer reminds her. "Remember, you _did_ lie about…you know. Everything with Wren."

"Enough," Ezra snaps. "Correct," he says to me, looking kind of disappointed, and clears his throat. "What was the date of Alison's abortion in Pittsburgh?"

Behind me, I hear Mona gasp, and I know that she has the exact date in her head. But I have no idea. January, I remember. Sometime in January. Sweat begins to bead on my forehead, and I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to picture the record on the computer. I know I'm going to get it wrong, but I give it my best shot anyway. "It was…it was January 16th, wasn't it?"

Ezra's face brightens. "So close," he says cheerfully, and my stomach sinks. "Two days off." Then he presses the red button on the remote.

It's like nothing I have ever felt before. Comparable to being struck by lightning, I expect, but I guess I wouldn't know. I scream without realizing that I'm doing it, bending forward as my whole body buzzes with pain.

I can't even tell that it's stopped at first, it continues to hurt so badly. But finally the burning pain begins to subside, and I sit back, gasping for breath. Ezra steps back, and I glance around, tossing my head to get my hair out of my face. Mona's crying. Hanna's hand is pressed to her mouth. Aria still hasn't lifted her head.

"One last question," Ezra declares, and I begin to shake again. I can't go through that again. I have to get it right, no matter what. "Who was helping Charlotte in the dollhouse?"

These are such random, nonsensical questions that I feel like they must mean something. Just more confirmation of his book research, maybe? But I don't care, because at least I know this one. "Noel. Noel was helping Charlotte."

Ezra nods, and once again, something resembling disappointment flickers across his face. "That's right," he confirms, and before I can even process my relief, he hits another button on the remote and the clamps slip back into the chair. Frantically, I pluck the electrodes off of my arms and leap up. Maybe if I move fast enough, I can –

But there's not even enough time to finish the thought. Ezra takes my arm again and pushes me back into my cell. "That's it for round two, folks," he says loudly, in that joking, almost goofy tone that he always used to use. Hearing it sends a jolt through me. It's like I've started to dissociate the Ezra in this bunker – _A.D. –_ from the one I've known since high school. They certainly don't act the same, even if he always has been a predator, now that I think about it.

Once I'm locked back in my cage, Ezra glances around, nods again, and leaves the room, the door slamming shut behind him. "Aria?" Spencer immediately calls across the room. "Are you…okay?"

There's no response. Aria remains huddled on the ground, her knees pulled tight to her chest. I let out a breath, press a hand to my still-pounding heart, and say, "Well, I think we can officially say that this has just gotten a lot worse."


	18. Chapter 18

I'm sorry for the fairly short length of this chapter, but I haven't been feeling well all week and wanted to make sure that I got something up for you guys this weekend! I hope you enjoy. Thank you as always for the great reviews! I'm glad you're liking where this story is going, and I love reading your theories and comments. Please continue to review and let me know what you think. The next chapter - well, let's just say it's a big one.

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Chapter 18

And so it goes, for nearly a week.

We each get a turn in the electric chair, and as the days go by, I begin to realize that I lucked out by getting chosen early on. Maybe it's because he's getting bored, or maybe it's for some other, more intentional reason that I can't figure out, but Ezra's questions seem to get harder and harder as time passes. Miniscule details about Charlotte, about Archer, about our pasts. Not even Spencer can remember all of the answers.

Aria's selected two days after I am, and even though she only gets shocked once, it's almost more than I can bear. Watching Ezra question and torture his own fiancée has removed all doubt from my mind. This isn't a joke, or some sort of fake-out. This is really it.

After another sleepless night, because there's really no way to get comfortable in a metal cell, the seven of us stand in our cages, silent. I feel absolutely defeated, and judging by the looks on everyone else's faces, they're feeling it, too. I kick absently at the empty tray by my feet. Twice a day Ezra delivers some sort of bland, almost tasteless food to us, just enough to live on. The first few days everyone was too terrified to eat, but now? I'd eat rotten apples if it meant quieting the rumbling in my stomach.

It's Alison who finally breaks the tense quiet. "It's my turn."

Hanna groans, rubbing at her eyes. "What?"

"I'm the only one who hasn't been in the chair," she explains, nodding toward it. I can see even from a few feet away that her hands are shaking. "It must be my turn today."

"You'll get through it," Spencer says encouragingly. "Just like we all did."

I shudder, wondering what's going to happen after Ali gets questioned. Is there a phase two of this plan? Or is the cycle just going to repeat? How many times is Ezra going to force us to recount miniscule facts and embarrassing secrets before he gets tired of this game?

And even worse: _What happens then?_

"I'm not worried about myself," Ali says, shaking her head. She places a hand on her stomach and glances across the room at Emily. "I'm just worried the shock might…do something to the baby."

Emily's face pales, and I blink, my stomach turning. That conversation in my apartment a few weeks back did happen, didn't it? I catch Mona's eye, and her expression tells me that I wasn't hallucinating.

So what was that all about? Was she trying to mess with me? But what would she get out of convincing me that she miscarried? It's the one piece of this mystery that I just can't figure out, and I'm just about to open my mouth and ask her, screw the situation we're in, when she door creaks open.

We all fall silent as Ezra walks in. Aria immediately turns away, hunching in her shoulders and facing the back wall. I flash back to the heartbroken look on her face when he pushed her into the electric chair several days ago. She hasn't even glanced in his direction since then.

"Morning, ladies," Ezra says cheerfully. "I hope you all slept well."

"No offense, but this isn't exactly a five star hotel," Spencer mutters under her breath.

"Watch your words, Spencer. This game isn't over yet," he replies, his mouth smiling but his eyes dark. Spencer falters, but then Ezra looks away from her and crosses the room. My heart seizes when he passes me, but he keeps going until he's standing in front of Alison's cage.

"Looks like you're the last one," he says, and uses the same little tool that he always carries with him to swing open the door of her cell.

She remains frozen, her back pressing against the bars farthest from him. "Ezra, no." Her voice is wavering. "Please. You could…you could kill my baby."

"Don't do this to her," Emily chimes in. Tears are shining in her eyes.

"Oh, don't worry." Ezra reaches in and grabs Ali's arm, pulling her out of the cage. "You're not going in the chair. I have something else in mind for you."

"What do you mean?" Alison whispers.

He smiles at her, and it actually reaches his eyes. A chill shoots up my spine. "You don't want to ruin the surprise, do you?" he asks in a low voice. Then he tightens his grip on her arm and pushes her toward the door.

"Wait, where are you taking her?" Spencer cries.

"Ali!" Emily yells, clutching the bars of her cell desperately.

Aria remains silent, but turns her head slightly, watching as Ezra shoves Alison out of the room. The door slams shut behind them, and Emily immediately starts banging on the metal bars. "I have to get out of here."

"Emily, stop it," Mona snaps.

"You're going to hurt yourself," I add quickly.

"What if he's going to kill her?" Emily asks hysterically, but she backs away from the bars, thankfully. "Why would he take her out of the room?"

I try to think of something reassuring, but honestly, this doesn't look promising. "He's probably not going to do anything," Spencer says calmly, but I notice that she's fiddling anxiously with her hands behind her back. "You know how A works, Em. He's probably doing this more to scare us than anything."

"Yeah," Hanna chimes in. "I mean, not even someone as sick and twisted as Ezra would kill someone who's pregnant, right?" Aria grimaces, and Hanna glances over at her apologetically. "Sorry."

Emily groans, throwing out her arms. "Why are we standing here talking about this? We need to try and save her!"

"Well, I don't see any other screwdrivers just conveniently lying around," I say, glancing at the floor around the cages just to be safe. "So do you have another solution?"

…

She doesn't, and three hours later it becomes apparent that no one else does, either. Spencer explains something about force and momentum and we try to use what she says to tip the cages, but Mona soon discovers that they're bolted to the ground.

After that, the situation basically dissolves into chaos. Emily turns toward the door and yells for Ali until her voice grows hoarse. Mona and Spencer discuss possible escape plans in complex terms, and do that thing they always used to do where they look at each other like they share the same brain. Aria sinks listlessly to her knees, and Hanna attempts to offer her comforting words from a few feet away. And I stand silently, taking all of us in with an impending sense of dread that grows stronger every minute that neither Ali nor Ezra returns.

Maybe because I'm the only person not freaking out in some way, I'm the first to notice the door slowly creaking open. "Guys," I gasp, my heart thudding hard, and jerk my chin toward the entrance. Six pairs of eyes turn to watch, and I stare, paralyzed with the question of whether it's going to be Ali who walks through that door, or Ezra, coming to tell us that he did something horrible to her.

But it turns out to be neither.

"Mary?" Hanna cries as Spencer's biological mother slips quietly into the room, easing the heavy door shut behind her.

"Shh," she whispers, and rushes immediately to Spencer, grabbing her hands through the bars of the cage. "Spencer. I'm so glad you're alright."

"Mary," Spencer gasps, her face draining of color. "Wh – what are you doing here?"

"Are you part of this?" Mona demands.

"I'm here to help you," Mary answers, pulling a small device from the pocket of her black jacket and beginning to pry open the front panel of Spencer's cell. "All of you. But we have to hurry."

I close my eyes and pinch myself quickly on the arm, but she's still there. Still, I can't shake the feeling that I'm looking at an apparition. "Wait, so have you been here this whole time?" I blurt out, perplexed. "Since you escaped from prison?"

"I can't explain right now," Mary says in a rush as Spencer's cage opens. She envelops her daughter in a tight, quick hug, then briskly walks over to my cell and begins working on the door. A few moments later I'm free, and I step out as soon as I can, feeling the same wave of relief that I did the last time.

"How did you get down here?" Aria asks shakily, the first time she's spoken all day.

Mary shakes her head, freeing my sister, who rushes over to join Spencer and me. "I'll tell you all everything. But we don't have time now." In the span of several minutes, all seven of us have been released, and Mary tucks her little tool away. "Come with me," she says intently, and stalks toward the door.

Mona and I join hands, as do Spencer and Aria, and Hanna and Emily. We rush after her, struggling to keep up with her long strides as we hurry down the hallway, just like we did last week.

Finally, Mary stops outside the door to the creepy lair-like room that we discovered during our last escape attempt. "The only exit is through there," she says, pointing toward it. "There's a staircase hidden behind the shelf to your left. It'll take you up to a door, and once you go through it you'll be in the middle of the woods. If you head north you'll find your way back to Rosewood."

Spencer's face falls. "Wait, you mean you're not coming with us?"

Mary gives her a remorseful look. "There are things you can't know yet, Spencer. It would be dangerous for me to leave now. But you'll understand everything soon enough."

"We can't leave!" Emily bursts out, her brow furrowing. "What about Ali?"

"Do you know where Ezra took her?" Hanna asks.

Mary's expression darkens for just a moment, and my heart jolts. Does that mean it's too late? She nods toward the room behind us. "You'll find everything you need in there," she advises.

As one, we glance over our shoulders at the plain wooden door. "What does that mean?" I ask, but when I look back, Mary's gone.

Spencer gasps. "Mary!"

"Where the hell did she go?" Hanna exclaims, looking back and forth.

"It doesn't matter. She's right," Mona says, and heads right for the door. "We don't have much time. Ezra could be back any minute."

"Wait!" A sudden, horrible thought striking me, I grab her wrist. "What if he's in there?"

She hesitates, then narrows her eyes. "There's only one way to find out, isn't there?" She swings the door open to reveal a thankfully empty small room, still filled to the brim with surveillance equipment, documents, and photographs.

"Mary said this is where we'd find our answers," Spencer says, pushing past the rest of us into the lair. "So let's figure out where Alison is and get out of here."


	19. Chapter 19

God, guys, I am so sorry that it's taken me so long to update. This semester has completely gotten away from me and I have had no time to write, or any motivation to, honestly. But I'll be home on break in a few short weeks and will have all the time in the world to get this story finished. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, your comments are what keeps me wanting to sit down and write! Please let me know what you think. This chapter isn't the longest, but it's definitely huge.

I'm eager to read what you guys have to say, but remember, as always, even if you don't like the direction that this story is going in, there's no reason to be rude in the comments!

* * *

Chapter 19

"What are we even supposed to be looking for?" Hanna asks as soon as we step into the room. My nerves are jangling so much that my hands have started to shake. I need to get this under control if I'm going to be looking through this room.

Emily's already walked over to the desk and yanked open a drawer. "Something that will tell us where Ali is," she answers immediately.

"Like what?" I groan, gazing hopelessly around the cluttered room. "I doubt we're gonna find a map with a big red star on it."

"Mary said this is where we'll find all of our answers," Spencer reminds us, as if I could've possibly forgotten. "So there must be something."

"What if this is a trap?" Mona suggests, not moving from the doorway. "Are we sure we can even trust Mary?"

Spencer shoots her a look. "She confessed to a murder just to save us. I'm pretty sure we can drop the accusations of moral ambiguity."

"I just want to get out of here," Aria declares, and strides over to one of the file cabinets, which she pulls open. It's so stuffed with papers that a few flutter to the ground.

That's good enough for me too, I suppose, and after exchanging a nod with my sister, we both begin to search as well. As the six of us fan out around the small room, I head for a filing cabinet several down from the one Aria is rooting through.

It's stuffed full of information, for the book, I suppose. I pull out a photocopy of Charlotte's death certificate, along with some photos from the scene of the crime. I wince at a picture of her lying on the grass, her neck twisted and bleeding from the wound, and set it aside before Mona sees it.

My heart begins to sink as I scramble to search through the files. So much of this stuff is classified police records. How the hell was Ezra able to get ahold of it? There's even info in here about Charlotte's time in Welby, about her mental diagnoses after she tried to blow us all up in Radley. Either he's way smarter than we thought, or there's something else going on here.

"It looks like Ezra's novel is just like the one he was going to write about Alison," I muse after about ten minutes, thumbing through a few pages of notes about Melissa and some broken suitcase handle. "It looks like he was trying to figure out who killed Charlotte."

"That's what he told me," Mona says. She's kneeling a few feet away from me, rifling through another drawer of papers. "He said that once he got all of you down here, he was going to kill me and finally get revenge."

"We still need to figure out that connection," Spencer chimes in from her place at the computer across the room. "Why did Ezra care so much about Charlotte?"

Hanna shrugs. She's flipping through a folder of photographs almost nonchalantly. "Maybe they met when he and Ali had their fling. Maybe he got, I don't know, attached to her or something." At the mention of Alison's romance with Ezra, Emily flinches and nearly drops a stack of papers.

The six of us settle back into an uncomfortable silence. I continue pulling open drawers and rooting through files, but there doesn't seem to be anything in here aside from information about Charlotte and records that detail basically every event that's taken place since she was released from Welby. It's nothing we don't already know.

There's nothing about what Ezra's planning, and nothing about what he could have done with Ali. I can practically see Emily's blood pressure rising, and I'm just starting to get frantic myself when Spencer wrinkles her brow and calls out, "Guys."

"Did you get into the computer?" Emily asks. I drop the file I'm holding and we all rush across the room to stand behind her.

"Yeah, a while ago," Spencer answers, waving a dismissive hand. She scoffs. "You'd think Ezra would've improved his security, doing this for the second time. But look at this." She clicks on a Photoshop file on the desktop, and a slightly blurry black and white image fills the screen.

Emily's brow furrows. "What the hell?"

I lean against the desk and squint, confused by what I'm seeing. "Is that an ultrasound?"

"It's not just any ultrasound," Spencer says shakily. She zooms in expertly on the top left corner of the image. "Look." And there, under a series of seemingly random numbers, are the words " _DiLaurentis, Alison L._ "

Aria barks out a laugh. "Why would Ezra have a picture of Ali's ultrasound?"

"He's going to do something to the baby," Emily says, her voice rising hysterically. She spins around, her gaze sweeping the room. "He's really going to. Oh my god."

"Emily, wait a second," Mona says curtly. She gestures at Spencer. "Mind if I sit?"

Spencer raises her eyebrows but relents, pressing her lips together and hopping up from the chair. My sister takes her place. As she leans toward the screen and begins messing with the image, Hanna asks, "Wait. Isn't Photoshop the program you use to, like, make yourself look better in pictures?"

"Yeah," Mona says slowly. I can almost see the gears in her head turning, and I feel a swell of anticipation in my stomach. "Yeah, you can use it to edit pictures. You can also use it to add things to pictures, things that weren't there before."

Aria folds her arms. "What are you saying?"

My sister presses a few keys, then clicks on Alison's name. A box appears around it. "This isn't part of the ultrasound image," she announces as Spencer's eyes grow wide. "Someone added it through this program." She hits the "delete" key, and Alison's name disappears, replaced by the name _Lawson, Jennifer M._

Spencer's eyes are locked on the screen. "This isn't Alison's ultrasound. It's someone else's."

Emily walks back over to us and practically pushes Hanna out of the way to get a better look. "No, it has to be. I stared at that picture for hours a few nights ago. It's the exact same image. It's our baby."

I peer curiously at the computer, feeling the hair on the back of my neck rise. Something's not right here, and Alison's teary face as she told me about her miscarriage pops back into my head.

The ultrasound image she pulled out to prove me wrong, the other night in the barn, isn't actually hers. And by the looks of this, Ezra was the one who edited it for her, like some kind of twisted fake ID. This all points to one thing, and I can tell by the looks on everyone else's faces that they're thinking exactly what I am.

"We don't know anything for sure," Emily blurts out suddenly, as if she's read my thoughts.

"Em, why would Ezra have this?" Spencer asks gently, placing a hand on her friend's arm. Emily pulls away roughly.

"Something about this stinks," Hanna retorts, shaking her head in disgust. "And it's _not_ just the mold in the walls."

"So we're saying it?" Mona asks, raising her arms. "Ali and Ezra are in on it together?"

"Of course not," Emily snaps, looking ready to murder her. "There has to be another explanation."

"Let's not go so far as to say they're working together," Spencer advises, her eyes still on the ultrasound. "He could be manipulating her, just like he did back in high school."

I snort. That seems hard to believe. "You're saying he forced her to come to my house and confess that she miscarried her baby?"

"All I'm saying is – "

Aria clears her throat. "Um, guys." I snap my head around to look at her. I hadn't even noticed in all of the commotion, but she'd moved away from the computer, and is now standing over by the desk in the center of the room, holding something flimsy between her hands.

"What is that?" Hanna asks, and we abandon the computer and Alison's fake ultrasound to crowd around her.

"I think it's a design for the cover of Ezra's book," Aria answers, looking like she's about to throw up all over it.

I lean closer, my shoulder brushing against hers as I gaze down at it. The title, _Secreta,_ is printed in fancy black cursive above a silhouette of a man and a woman kissing, the girl's leg kicked up at the knee.

"Ew." Hanna grimaces, wrinkling her nose. "Is that supposed to be you and him?"

"I – I don't know why he would put me on the cover," Aria stammers, paling. She glances down at the engagement ring on her finger, sparkling in the dim light of the room.

"I don't think that's supposed to be Aria," Mona says, pointing to the outline of the girl's long, wavy hair, flowing down her back. Aria tugs on the ends of her own shoulder-length cut.

"Maybe it's not supposed to be anyone," Emily blurts out, clearly desperate. "It could just be some cover art he had made."

She could be right. It could be no one. But I have an idea.

"Let me see that," I mutter, gently taking the book cover from Aria and turning it over slowly in my hands.

I hold it out straight, and as soon as I see the photograph on the back, my heart drops like a stone into my stomach. Emily's face loses the little color it had left, and Aria gasps out loud.

It's Ali and Ezra, their faces pressed together, smiling broadly into the camera. It's a recent picture, probably taken just a few months ago. And it basically confirms all of the suspicions I had leading up to now.

"They're making it together," I breathe, glancing around at the girls gathered around me. My stomach has started to twist, and it takes another dive when I get a look at the caption and the names below the picture.

 _The Inspiration and the Author:_

 ** _A_** _lison DiLaurentis and Ezra Fitzgeral_ _ **d**_ _._


	20. Chapter 20

I'm sorry once again for another long period between updates. But the good news is that the semester is over and I have all the time in the world to write! We've still got a bit to go, but we're approaching the end now, and I'd love to get this done sooner rather than later. Updates are going to depend on the amount of feedback I get, so make sure to keep reviewing and let me know what you think!

Another chapter that's not too lengthy, but I'm going to make up for it with the next one, I promise. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 20

"The initials are the bookends of their names," Spencer breathes. Her face has gone ghostly white. "A.D."

Emily snatches the book cover from my hand and smacks it back down on the desk. "That doesn't mean anything. So what if Ali's his inspiration? It could still just be Ezra writing the book."

Hanna rolls her eyes. "Em, look at that picture. Ali didn't have bangs like that until last month."

"They've been sneaking around together this whole time," I say, feeling a wave of disgust. I flip the cover over so we don't have to look down at their smiling faces.

Emily's chest is heaving. She shakes her head hard and backs away, nearly crashing into one of the filing cabinets. "No. Ali can't be part of this. Not when she's _having our baby."_

I exchange a look with Mona and step toward her. "Emily," I say gently. "I promise you, Alison came to me weeks ago and told me she's not pregnant. I swear on my life I'm not making it up."

"Why else would she say that if not to mess with us?" Mona agrees. "She's A. She and Ezra."

"You guys don't understand," Emily cries, almost wailing now. Tears are glistening in her eyes and I feel a lurch of compassion for her. This is the second time in less than a week that I've watched someone's heart essentially break right in front of me, and it's not getting any easier. "What Ali and I have is real. She took me to our special place, she told me she…" Her voice trails off. "She wouldn't do this to me."

Aria rushes over to her as the rest of us glance at each other, at a loss. "Em, look at me. I know exactly what you're going through. But you have to believe this. It's the only way we can get out of here." She takes her friend's hands and squeezes tightly. "We'll get through this. Together."

Emily closes her eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Then, without warning, she throws her arms around Aria. "Why would she do this?" she sobs, several tears slipping down her cheek.

Spencer furrows her brow, her eyes disturbed. This must be almost as hard for her as it is for Emily, I realize with a jolt of my stomach. After all, she and Alison are cousins. "We don't know," she says quietly, glancing over her shoulder at the bookshelf. "But we can figure that out later. Right now we need to get the hell out of here before they realize we've figured out what's going on."

"You're right, Spencer," Mona says, and strides over to the shelf. "Vi, help me move this."

My hands are shaking so badly that I can barely get a good grasp on the other end of the shelf, but with Spencer and Hanna's help, we manage to push it out of the way, revealing a narrow, cement staircase that trails up into darkness.

The sight of it reminds me explicitly of something out of a horror movie, but it's not like we have a choice. "Okay." Taking charge, but only due to my intense desire to get out of this hellhole, I turn back to the five others. "There's only room for one of us to go up at a time. We should all join hands, just to make sure that no one – "

"Gets separated?" a dark voice cuts me off. A chill shoots up my spine. I take in the pale, stricken faces of the girls around me for a long moment before allowing myself to turn around.

Alison stands behind me, in the doorway to the hidden staircase. The last time I saw her was when Ezra was yanking her away from us just hours ago. Now it's like I'm looking at a completely different person. Her previously frizzy, straggly hair has been washed and curled to sleek perfection. Her skin is practically aglow with a mix of freshly applied bronzer and blush. And she's changed from the jeans and sweater that she'd been wearing since we were kidnapped into a form-fitting black hoodie, dark leggings, and heeled boots.

The other half of A.D., right here in the flesh.

"Well, well, well," Ali says with a gleeful smirk, striding further into the room. I take a large step back, nearly stumbling into Hanna. "Aren't you a clever bunch. And what a shame," she adds thoughtfully with a fake pout. "I had a whole dramatic entrance all planned out, too."

Emily gasps like she's seen a ghost. Spencer grabs her arm to steady her. "Sorry for ruining your big plans," Hanna snaps, her face twisting in anger. "Now why don't you tell us what the hell your deal is?"

"Ali, tell me this is a joke," Emily cries suddenly, breaking away from Spencer and rushing toward her former girlfriend. "This can't be real." Tears are streaming freely down her face now.

Ali lifts her chin, looking at her with an unreadable expression. "Oh, Emily," she says quietly, stepping forward and touching Emily's cheek. "You were always the easiest to fool." She yanks her hand away, and the hopeful smile falls immediately from Emily's face.

Aria shakes her head, looking green. This must be the worst week of her life. First she finds out that her fiancé is evil and plotting against her, and now one of her best friends is, too. "How could you do this to us?" Alison just gives her a mysterious smirk.

My sister folds her arms. There's a triumphant gleam in her eyes. I'm sure that after everything she's been through with Alison, this moment _does_ probably feel like a victory, in a way. And I have to admit, despite the fear coursing through my veins and the sorrow that I feel for Ali's friends, it does feel kind of good to know that I was right.

"This banter's getting a little tiring, don't you think, girls?" Mona says smoothly. "Let's get out of here."

She attempts to skirt around Alison, but the blonde shoves her back by the shoulder. "You think you're just going to walk right out of here? Oh, no. We're only just getting started."

I laugh before I can stop myself. "Math must not be your strong suit, Ali. There are six of us here, and one of you. You think you can overpower us?"  
Ali raises her eyebrows, giving me a condescending, almost pitying smile. "But don't you remember, Viola? I'm not working alone." Her eyes lock on something past all of us. " _Now._ "

There's barely time to react before a deafening _bang_ fills the room. I grab my sister's hand and spin around just as thick smoke begins to swirl around us. Ezra stands in her doorway, a gas gun clutched at his side. "Don't breathe it in!" Spencer yells, clasping her hands over her mouth and nose. "It'll knock you unconscious."

I squeeze my lips together and press my hands to my nose, watching in horror as Alison calmly pulls a surgical mask from the pocket of her sweatshirt and slips it on. "Night, night, ladies," she says cheerfully, her voice muffled as she strides across the room.

"Somebody grab her!" Hanna cries, and instantly gags. I grimace, bending at the waist. My lungs feel like they're about to burst. A bit of air escapes up my nose, and dizziness hits me immediately. Someone has a tight grip on my arm, but the smoke is so thick that I can't even see who it is.

I don't sense myself hit the ground. I don't even feel like I was knocked unconscious, but I must have been, because the next thing I know, I'm back in one of the large cages in the room down the hall, Mona and the others trapped as well. The now-empty seventh cage, beside mine, is the elephant in the room.

I cough, tasting the knockout gas in my mouth. "Okay, was that all a dream?" I ask dryly, glancing around at the others.

"Well if it was, we all had the same one," Spencer replies.

The door across the room opens, and Alison and Ezra stride in, their hands interlocked. Aria and Emily's faces drain of color simultaneously, but Aria's flushes with fury a moment later. Apparently her depression has given way to the "anger" phase of the grieving process, which is probably better for all of us, honestly.

"What the hell is going on?" Hanna bursts out, speaking for all of us. "Is this for real, Alison?"

Ali smiles at her. "For real and for keeps," she confirms slyly. "I wanted to make sure you six couldn't get away before I tell my story."

Spencer wrinkles her nose. "What do you mean, your story?"

"Oh, come on, Spencer," Alison says, walking over to stand in front of Spencer's cell. "What happened to that thirst to know the truth? Don't you want to know all about how I – " She shoots a glance back at Ezra. " – _we –_ ended up here?"

"I want to know how you could do such awful things to us," Spencer snaps. "We're supposed to be your _best friends,_ Alison. Was all of that just another one of your big lies?"

Alison opens her mouth, but Ezra steps in quickly. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"You're right," she agrees, walking back to the center of the room. "We're going to start at the beginning. And you bitches are going to listen to every word."

I bow my head to hide an eye roll. Typical Alison – even her main concern while she's explaining her evil origin story is that she's the center of everyone's attention.

I don't know about everyone else, but I could care less about her story. I don't think there's any possible explanation that could make what A.D. has done to us seem reasonable. But there's one other thing that's weighing on my mind. I clear my throat and call out, before either of them have a chance to begin, "Wait. What happens after you tell us everything you want us to know?"

Alison and Ezra exchange a stoic glance. He nods, and she locks eyes with me, one corner of her mouth lifting ominously. "Then I guess the story's over." She pauses, raising a finger to her chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Your story, that is."


	21. Chapter 21

Well...let's just say this chapter got a little bit away from me. Welcome to part one of A.D.'s story, I hope you enjoy.

Thanks for such great feedback on the last chapter - don't forget to keep letting me know what you think!

* * *

Chapter 21

"Let's start at the beginning." Alison rotates slowly around, just once, meeting each of our gazes. Then she joins Ezra in the front of the room, presumably so she can see all of us at the same time. "With Charlotte."

"Wait," Hanna blurts out, her face reddening in anger. "This goes all the way back to _Charlotte?_ "

Alison barely glances in her direction. "I've known that Charlotte and I were related since the summer I disappeared," she declares, and though I barely flinch – honestly, I don't think anything can surprise me at this point – gasps echo around the room. The color has drained from Spencer's face. Ali smirks at her. "She didn't know about you or Mary yet, but everything else…she told me all of it."

Aria wraps her hands around the bars of her cage. "You _knew_ that CeCe was Charlotte? The _whole time?_ "

"She was the person I was closest to," Ali replies, and everyone aside from Mona and myself flinches. "Of course she confided in me."

I glance around at the girls trapped around me. They've spent so long defending Alison and learning to trust her again. They all must be just as crushed as Emily. I sneak a peek at Mona, flashing back to my reaction to learning that she was the original A, all those years ago. Finding out that someone you care about has been doing such horrible things has to be the worst feeling in the world. I'm glad that I never fully bought into Ali's "good" act. It makes this whole thing a lot easier to digest.

"She sat me down and told me the whole story right around the time that things with A were getting bad," Ali goes on. She narrows her eyes, crossing the room slowly and running her hand along one of the bars of the cage that Mona is trapped in. "I was scared for my life," she snaps. My sister crosses her arms and averts her eyes, her expression hardening. "And it was starting to become clear that staying in Rosewood wasn't going to help me take A down."

Spencer sets her jaw. Her teeth are clenched tight. Even from a few feet away, I can see her hands shaking. "Labor Day weekend," she practically whispers.

"Ali wasn't planning anything that night," Emily insists, staring confrontationally at Spencer from across the room, as if her girlfriend isn't standing in front of us right now, literally confessing that she's our anonymous tormentor. "She told us all of that in New York."

"Oh, New York," Ali sighs, letting out a low chuckle. "We'll get to New York. But first, Labor Day weekend." She folds her arms and paces casually around the space between our cells. "I'd told Charlotte all about A, and we figured out that the best way for me to get the upper hand was to make A think they couldn't get to me anymore. I needed to make them think I was gone. But to do that, I had to find a body double. And Charlotte told me just where I could find the perfect person…"

…

 _"_ _What can I do for you?"_

 _Alison stepped confidently up to the nurse's station at Radley, fixing the most winning smile she could muster onto her face. "I'm here to visit my sister. Charlotte DiLaurentis?"_

 _The nurse on duty glanced briefly at the schedule on her computer. "Your name?"_

 _"_ _Alison DiLaurentis."_

 _The woman quickly printed a visitor's badge and handed it to Ali, who pinned it to her shirt. "She's in the day room. Visiting hours end at six."_

 _Alison followed the nurse's pointing finger down the hall and through a set of doors. She made sure they were fully closed behind her before turning and sweeping her gaze across the room. A bone-thin girl sat hunched-over at the piano, tapping at random keys with one finger. Two young women huddled on the faded couch, staring listlessly ahead. Alison wrinkled her nose instinctively, but after a moment her eyes landed on Charlotte, serenely reading a book in a chair near the piano. Ali narrowed her eyes at the image of her sister, wearing no makeup, a simple cardigan, and a ponytail. This was like an entirely different person than the CeCe Drake persona she adopted during both her approved and unapproved outings from Radley._

 _Ali cleared her throat sharply, and Charlotte glanced up, meeting her gaze. Then she cut her eyes away, tilting her head toward the back of the room, where a girl with long, stringy blond hair was bent over a table, scratching a pencil against a sketchpad._

 _Alison nodded, shot one last look over her shoulder to make sure the nurse who'd let her in wasn't lurking nearby, then squared her shoulders and stalked across the room. She slid into the seat across from the girl, who didn't even look up from her drawing._

 _"_ _Bethany?" Ali asked after a long moment, keeping her voice high and light._

 _Bethany Young's head snapped up. She dropped her pencil onto the table with a jolt of surprise. Then her eyes narrowed, practically into slits, as she said flatly, "Leave me alone. I'm busy."_

 _Ali arched a surprised eyebrow. Charlotte had warned her that Bethany could be combative and sullen, but she still wasn't used to being spoken to with so much disrespect. "I don't think you understand," she said, resisting the urge to snatch the pencil right out of Bethany's hand. "My name's Alison DiLaurentis."_

 _Bethany's hand froze above the paper. Her face whitened, and she lifted her head slowly, meeting Ali's gaze under hooded eyelids. "DiLaurentis?" she repeated, her voice a low whisper._

 _Ali lifted her chin and nodded. She could practically feel Charlotte's eyes boring into her back._

 _Bethany closed her eyes. "What. The hell. Are. You. Doing. Here?" she hissed through clenched teeth. Her voice was trembling just slightly._

 _"_ _I wanted to talk to you," Alison replied, staring calmly at the older girl. "About our parents."_

 _"_ _I have nothing to say to you," Bethany growled, and bent back over her sketchbook._

 _Ali shifted in her seat, undeterred. She'd known that getting through to Bethany wasn't going to be easy, and she wasn't leaving here until they'd at least established some sort of friendly relationship. She smiled charmingly and leaned forward. "What are you drawing?"_

 _Bethany glanced up and gave her a nasty smile. Then she flipped a few pages back in the book and shoved it across the table at Alison. It was a sketch of Ali's mother. Her eyes were blacked out and the word "liar" was scrawled across her forehead and shirt._

 _Alison studied the drawing carefully, looking back up at Bethany after a long moment. The girl was watching her eagerly, clearly waiting for a reaction. But after everything she'd learned about her family over the past few months, she couldn't say that the cruel drawing was particularly inaccurate. Although she loved her mother, "liar" pretty much summed up what she'd been doing to Ali for her whole life._

 _Her lips curved into a smirk almost involuntarily, and Bethany reeled back, clearly caught off-guard. "Liar," Ali scoffed, sliding the sketchbook back across the table. "You don't know the half of it. Look." She laid her arms on the table and leaned forward, as if getting ready to share a secret. "I know all about the little affair our parents are having. And trust me, I'm just as angry about it as you are."_

 _Bethany's face twisted. "Your slut of a mother – "_

 _"_ _Shh." Ali reached out and placed her hand on Bethany's arm. "No need to get ahead of ourselves." She smiled as genuinely as she could. "I have a feeling we have a_ lot _to talk about."_

…

"Once I got Bethany talking, she warmed up to me pretty quickly," Alison concludes, examining her nails. "As Labor Day grew closer, I gave her a yellow shirt and a 'friendship bracelet' with my name on it as a gift. I invited her to our sleepover and told her to wear them. She had no idea that what I had in mind didn't involve braiding hair and swapping secrets."

"Wait," Spencer interrupts, looking at Ali crazily. "So that letter Hanna found in your attic was real? You actually did lure Bethany to Rosewood that night?"

"Wow," Alison sighs, glancing back at Ezra and rolling her eyes. He just shakes his head. "If you're struggling to keep up already, Spence, this is going to be a long night."

"Hey, don't talk to her like that," Hanna snaps. Out of all of Ali's (former?) friends, she's seemed to turn on her with the most ease.

Ali tips her head back and laughs. Giving Hanna nothing but a sneer, she goes on, "While I was walking around trying to cross people off my A list, Charlotte was waiting for Bethany. And when she saw the girl in the yellow top heading for my house…she struck." Her face clouds over momentarily. "But she got the wrong girl."

I stare at the ground as she talks, thinking back to everything that Charlotte told the girls, way back in high school, about that night. It's getting difficult to sort out what was true and what she made up. "Charlotte hit me, but Bethany still ended up in the ground," Ali continues, smirking at my sister. "So in a way, I guess I should be thanking you."

Mona rolls her eyes. "I'm honored."

Alison ignores her. "My plan worked. My doppelganger was in my grave, and I was free to leave Rosewood and track down A without any distractions."

"And that's right around the time that I disbanded the N.A.T. Club. Or so I thought," Ezra jumps in, as seamlessly as if they've rehearsed this a thousand times. And now that I think about it, they probably have.

At his words, my mind flashes back to the paper I found wedged under Ezra's mattress. "So you really were in charge of the club?" I ask as he switches places with Alison, standing front and center now for his moment in the spotlight.

"Not initially," he replies, not looking at me. "It started out just like you thought – Jason, Ian, and Garrett's little perverted pastime," he says with absolutely no sense of irony. "By the time I found out about what they were doing, I'd just decided to start writing my book about Alison."

"Even I hadn't realized your fascination with me had gone that far," Ali snorts, but I notice her face brightening with pleasure.

"By the time I commissioned the N.A.T. Club to do some research into Alison DiLaurentis and her four best friends, Jason had already bowed out. And when Alison disappeared, I paid off Ian and Garrett to disband it altogether. There's no way I was going to let anyone find out about the videos I'd had them make."

Something's not adding up here. "But the club didn't end," I pipe up, furrowing my brow in confusion. "That video with Wren was taken months after Ali went missing."

Ezra nods, grimacing. "I found out Alison was alive when she sought me out that winter. I'd broken things off with her the night she disappeared, when I found out she was underage. But when she discovered that she was pregnant, she came to see me." Behind him, Ali folds her arms and nods along. The urge to punch her in her smug little face is suddenly so overwhelming that I have to tear my eyes away.

"My mother and Wren helped us arrange for an abortion," Ezra goes on. "It was settled in matter of weeks. But once all was said and done, I was still furious. So I told Alison I never wanted to see her again."

She walks up behind him and loops an arm around his shoulders. "We've come a long way," she says in a singsong. Across the room, both Emily and Aria look like they're about to throw up. I can't even imagine how both of them must be feeling.

Ezra throws her a smile, then continues, "I thought the N.A.T. Club was gone for good…until Jason paid me a visit a little under a year later. Apparently he found out his buddies had kept making videos long after they'd claimed, and when he confronted Garrett, he handed over his copy. Told Jason that they were working under my orders. Then Jason took the videos home and watched them all."

Spencer scoffs. "I'm sure we can guess which one made him so angry."

"He was enraged," Ezra says matter-of-factly. "He came to my apartment demanding answers."

…

 _"_ _Ezra! Hey Ezra, open the damn door!"_

 _Ezra sighed, recognizing the deep, slightly scratchy voice. He set down the stack of final essays on_ To Kill a Mockingbird _that he'd been in the middle of grading and opened the door to his apartment with some reluctance._

 _Jason DiLaurentis shoved his way inside, his face red with fury. "Jason, what's going on?" Ezra asked, a little nervously. He'd only interacted with Alison's brother a few times, when Jason volunteered with Rosewood High's counseling department, but he'd never seen him this emotional._

 _Jason whirled on him, his hands clenched into fists. "I want an explanation for that recording. And it better be a fucking good one."_

 _Ezra took a step back, his blood running cold. There was only one thing that Jason could be referring to. But that was impossible, wasn't it? There was no way he could know about… "Whoa there." He held out his hands. "I – I don't know what you're talking about."_

 _"_ _Cut the crap, man," Jason practically shouted. Ezra shot a glance toward the door. The walls in this building weren't that thick. "Garrett told me the N.A.T. Club was on your payroll. He sold you out. And he gave me that video of my sister."_

 _Now that the secret was out and he could no longer feign innocence, Ezra felt irritation begin to swell. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific. Those guys were videotaping her for months."_

 _Jason looked sick to his stomach. "Don't play dumb, Ezra. You know which video I'm talking about."_

 _Ezra held his hands out flat, shaking his head. He didn't have to fake confusion this time. "Give me a hint?"_

 _Ali's brother stepped closer to him, his arms shaking from how hard his fists were clenched. "The hospital. The abortion. That wimpy British doctor. Any of this ringing a bell?"_

 _But Ezra had stopped listening after the word_ abortion. _The floor felt like it had opened up beneath him. The N.A.T. Club had disbanded after Alison had disappeared. They'd sworn that they wouldn't film another video. And yet…Alison hadn't gone to see Wren until January, months later._

 _He cursed under his breath. Ian and Garrett – damn whichever one of them had taken that video. "Oh," he said out loud, unable to process what was happening fast enough to come up with anything else._

 _Jason looked murderous. "Who was the father?" he demanded, his voice growing dangerously quiet. "Was it you?"_

 _"_ _No!" Ezra blurted without thinking. Ali had been fifteen when she'd terminated the pregnancy. There was no way he could admit to anything about this. It would ruin his life. He took a deep breath to compose himself, and arranged his face into the most innocent, remorseful expression he could muster. "Jason, look. This is a huge misunderstanding."_

 _Jason laughed incredulously, stepping back. "Yeah? You're saying my sister wasn't really pregnant? That video's just a big joke?"_

 _"_ _I can't answer that," Ezra lied, surprising himself at how easy it was. "I've never seen that video. I have no idea if Alison was pregnant or not."_

 _"_ _So then what's the deal?" Jason asked, his eyes shining with anger. "Why were you paying the club to spy on a bunch of teenage girls?"_

 _Ezra forced a sigh, leaning against the arm of the overstuffed couch. "I was writing a book. About your sister." Jason's mouth dropped open, and he continued hastily, "I met her early that summer, at a…bookstore. She told me she was twenty-one, we got to talking, and I found out she lived in Rosewood. We only talked a few times after that, but I was just…fascinated with her. Your sister had a charm and charisma that I'd never seen before."_

 _Jason snorted. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it. Now what the hell do you mean, you were writing a book?"_

 _"I'd never met anyone who could lie as well as her," Ezra went on, the wistfulness in his voice only half-forced. "She was the perfect subject for a book. And I guess I got a little overenthusiastic with my research." He shook his head, lowering his eyes. "Trying to write that thing was the worst mistake of my life. It turned me into someone I never wanted to be."_

 _"_ _What's that, a disgusting creep?" Jason spat, and Ezra flinched. "So now what? Where's all your little research now?"_

 _"_ _I destroyed it. Shredded it, burned it, it's all gone, I swear to you. As soon as you get rid of your copy of those videos, nothing will exist."_

 _Jason looked conflicted, but some of blind rage was gone from his expression, at least. "You better be telling me the truth."_

 _Ezra nodded quickly. "I am. I regret that book more than anything. It's completely out of my life."_

 _Alison's older brother gave him one last appraising look, then turned for the door. His hand on the knob, he looked back. "If I find out you're lying, Fitz…you're a dead man." The walls shook as he slammed the door behind him._

…

"I didn't know whether it was Garrett or Ian who took that video. But I needed to make sure that they couldn't do anything else that would cause me problems."

Aria's staring at him like she's seeing him for the first time. "Wh-what did you do?" she stammers, looking like she'd rather not know.

Ezra and Ali exchange a grin. "I'd been watching Ian for a while. I followed him when he stumbled out of the church the night Alison pushed him from the bell tower. And once we were far enough into the woods…" He trails off and cocks his fingers like a gun.

Aria gasps. Hanna's mouth drops. "You _shot_ Ian?"

"Thanks for the suicide note, by the way." Ezra nods at my sister. "You really made it easy to get away with it."

Alison's grin widens. "Tell them about Garrett."

Ezra shrugs, smiling modestly, like he's talking about scoring the game-winning goal or something. "I paid off Wilden to take care of him on the Halloween ghost train. It didn't take much convincing – he knew Garrett was planning on reporting him for corruption."

"Oh my god." My hand flies to my mouth as my stomach starts to swirl. Ezra isn't just one half of A.D. – he's an actual freaking _murderer._ Any hope I had that we could possibly all make it out of here alive starts to slip away.

Ezra takes a few steps backward – apparently it's Ali's turn again. She places her hands on her hips, clearly in her element, telling her big story with a captive audience. "After about a year on the run, I figured out that A wasn't coming for me. I was just starting to think about coming home and making up some excuse for my disappearance when I learned that the game had started all over again. I spent the next nine months lurking around Rosewood, keeping track of you four and trying to figure out who'd been torturing me."

Mona cuts her off, her eyes bright. "And yet you never managed to figure it out."

Alison looks directly at her and lets out a harsh laugh. "I figured it out in less than a month," she scoffs, and my sister jolts a little, clearly taken aback. "Making everyone wear black hoodies at your birthday party? It was so obvious, it had to be you."

Suddenly Emily raises her eyes, speaking for the first time since this story has begun. A tear rolls down her cheek, and her voice comes out in a dazed whisper. "You told me you knew who A was. When you pulled me out of the barn."

Ali smirks at her. Any warmth that her eyes used to hold when she looked at Emily is completely gone, I notice. "It's amazing the things you can get away with saying when you're dead," she notes quietly, then shrugs and continues, "The thing was, I figured out pretty early on that I had no interest in stopping A. Watching you four run around like chickens with your heads cut off, frantically trying to find out who killed me…you were wrapped around my finger more tightly than you were when I was alive."

Spencer shakes her head in disbelief. "Seriously? You sat back and watched our torment just for _entertainment?_ "

Alison sighs, staring longingly out at nothing. I shudder. "It was like being the center of attention and watching a play about my life all in one. Being on the run was _so_ worth it. But then Mona got caught and sent to Radley, and it looked like the fun was over…until Charlotte somehow tracked me down that summer." She pauses, chuckling. "She felt _so_ bad for what she'd done to me that night. But she made it up to me by telling me all about her new Radley BFF."

Everyone turns to Mona. I watch sympathetically as she closes her eyes and lets out a slow breath. "She told you about that?"

Ali smiles wickedly. I stick my hands behind my back to keep from trying to break through the bars of my cage to attack her. "She told me everything. And when she decided to start playing the game, she asked for my help. Of course, I had to stay out of Rosewood. But I managed to hook her up with a new friend I'd made."

…

 _Alison brushed a few strands of her itchy black wig out of her face, sipping delicately at her latte. These little hole-in-the-wall cafes were perfect for runaways – and girls were supposed to be dead – and she'd discovered plenty of them over the past two years._

 _She checked her watch, growing annoyed. She didn't like to stay in one place for too long, and her companion was running late. But less than a minute later, a girl with long blond hair and a slightly gaunt frame slid into the seat beside her._

 _"_ _Took you long enough," Alison muttered, lifting one corner of her mouth in a half-smile. She paused, expecting a sarcastic quip in return, but when her friend stayed silent, twisting her hands together nervously, she frowned. "Sara?"_

 _Sara Harvey, another missing girl who'd been running in the same circles as Ali for the last few months, shook her head, her hair falling in her face. "I'm in trouble, Ali," she whispered._

 _Ali raised her eyebrows, not even bothering to correct her about the name. "What do you mean?"_

 _Sara grabbed a napkin from the holder and began tearing it up. Her hands were shaking. "I'm out of money. Completely. That's why I was late, I was – I was double checking all of my stuff, trying to find anything I'd hidden, but…I'm out."_

 _Ali looked at her evenly. "So what does that mean?"_

 _"_ _I have to go back home, I guess," Sara said miserably, staring listlessly down at the table. "It's not like I can get a job. And I can't survive on nothing."_

 _Ali's frown deepened. Although the two had only known each other for several months, Sara had told her all about her crazy mother, who constantly forced Sara to fake injuries and illnesses just for attention. It made Jessica sound almost saint-like. "But your mom – "_

 _"_ _I know. But what other choice do I have? I have no way to get money." Sara raised an eyebrow, looking suddenly like the queen bee of Cortland that she used to be. "And don't say a_ word _about prostitution."_

 _But Ali was barely listening. She tapped her fingers against the table thoughtfully, an idea taking shape in her mind. "Listen. I think I might be able to help you." She scooted her chair closer to Sara's and leaned in conspiratorially. "I have this friend. She just started playing this…game, with this group of girls in Rosewood. And I think she could use some help."_

 _Sara wrinkled her nose. "What kind of game?"_

 _"_ _That doesn't matter right now," Ali said, waving her hand dismissively. "The important thing is that she could pay you. A lot. I'd do it myself, but, you know. I'm dead."_

 _She glanced at her friend. Sara was peering at her curiously. Some of the color had returned to her face. Finally she took a breath and nodded. "I'm listening."_

 _…_

"At first everything was great." Alison leans casually against the side of Hanna's cage. Hanna eyes her distastefully. "But after a while…I got jealous. I'd been closer to Charlotte than anyone for years. Then suddenly it seemed like Sara had taken my place."

"You took that picture," Spencer blurts out suddenly, her eyes growing wide. I gasp, my mind flashing back to that photograph in the hidden section of Radley, but the other girls all look at her questioningly. "Of Sara and Charlotte. Didn't you?"

Ali nods slowly. "Playing the game brought them closer and closer," she says, her mouth twisting. "It was like I'd been replaced. So when I found out that Charlotte was planning to pull some stunt at Thornhill Lodge, I figured out the perfect way to get Sara out of her good graces."

Hanna's shaking her head. "Charlotte told us that she lured us to the lodge so she could find out if you were alive."

I roll my eyes. "I'm starting to think Charlotte might not have been the most honest person in the world."

Alison ignores both of us. "I don't know what she had planned for that night. But I _did_ know that she asked Sara to show up in the red coat. I had one of my own lying around, so I put it on, snuck out there, and threw a wrench in her plans."

Mona stares at her. " _You_ set the fire, not Shana."

"Of course I did," Ali replies matter-of-factly. Across the room, Emily moans as if in pain, her skin practically turning green. "Charlotte had no idea I was anywhere near the lodge. So when she saw a girl in a red coat throw the match, she blamed Sara. Stripped her of her A duties and threw her down in this bunker in the woods she'd discovered as punishment."

"You knew Sara Harvey," Aria mutters in disbelief.

"So if you were loving the A game so much, why'd you come back in the first place?" Hanna snaps.

Behind Alison, Ezra grins. "I love this part of the story," he declares, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. I feel my stomach sink. That can't mean anything good.

Ali's smile brightens. "Watching the game from afar was fun," she admits. "But after a while I got sick of staying on the sidelines, watching 'CeCe' mess with you guys directly while I couldn't participate. So when you four came to Ravenswood to look for me, I decided it was time to come home. And I suppose that brings us to New York."


	22. Chapter 22

And here we are with part two of Ali and Ezra's story! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. I'm so glad you're all enjoying and that this is providing a more satisfying alternative to the show's ending. This chapter gives the rest of their story, so please continue to review and let me know what you think! Your feedback means everything to me.

* * *

Chapter 22

A chill runs up my spine at the words "New York." Even though I wasn't there when the girls met up with Alison and convinced her to come home, I'd always felt like there was something missing from that night. Something that someone wasn't telling. And I guess this is it.

Spencer stares at Ali with narrowed eyes. "What do you mean, New York? We were with you that whole night. We know exactly what happened."

Alison faces her, letting out a loud, mocking laugh. "Poor Spencer. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. And yet you didn't even realize that everything that happened in New York was one big set-up."

Emily's face turns a shade greener. I'm surprised that she hasn't thrown up all over the floor of her cell by this point. "What kind of set-up?" she asks shakily.

Ali paces slowly around the area between our cages, shooting a grin back at Ezra. "I did send Shana to Rosewood to track down A. That was true," she begins. "But I couldn't believe how easily you all bought that she'd actually fallen in love with _Jenna._ "

Aria's eyebrows shoot up. "Wait a minute, that was fake? Shana didn't love Jenna?"

Mona shakes her head, looking disgusted. "I always thought there was something off about that."

Ali gives her a saccharine smile. "If only you'd actually done something about it," she purrs, then turns away. "I told Shana to pretend to fall for Jenna, make it look like she'd turned against me."

"Hold on." I step forward and grasp the bars of the cage, staring straight across the room at Aria. "I thought you killed Shana because she actually showed up in New York, trying to hurt Ali. Right?" I glance sideways at my sister, who looks just as confused as I feel.

Alison rolls her eyes overdramatically. "If you imbeciles stopped interrupting for half a second, maybe you'd actually understand."

Ezra snorts. "I told you we should have taped their mouths shut," he says lightly, and I can't tell whether or not he's joking. Aria squeezes her eyes closed and inhales sharply.

"Shana coming to New York was all part of the plan," Ali explains. She pauses, glancing at Aria, Emily, Spencer, and Hanna in turn. "I wanted to come home, but I knew how I treated you four. I knew that after everything, you might not be ready to welcome me back with open arms. So I had to come up with some way to make you guys think I was in danger, that I really was a victim that needed protection. That's where Shana came in."

Hanna's mouth drops. "You let Shana _die_ just so we'd feel sorry for you?"

The color drains from Aria's face. "How could you do that to me?" she whispers, her voice trembling. I wince, remembering how unhinged she was in the weeks after Shana's death. I've never killed anyone, thank god, and I don't want to know how it feels after the fact.

Ali shrugs. Her expression is placid, almost indifferent. "The plan was to argue with Shana and convince her to spare me so we could get away. I had no idea Aria was going to burst in and play hero. But I guess that's just the risk Shana had to take."

I feel bile rise in my throat and swallow hard. Ali doesn't even seem sad that she basically caused the death of her childhood best friend. How sick is she? But then I glance around, at the six of us trapped in cages in an underground bunker while she and Ezra recount their twisted story, and think I know the answer.

"The plan worked, anyway," Ali goes on, smiling a little as she walks back to stand beside Ezra. "The four of you completely ate it up. 'You're not in this alone,'" she adds, her voice taking on a mocking lilt. "God. It was way easier than I thought it would be to make you all think I was some scared, innocent little victim while I was really helping Charlotte the whole time."

Spencer raises her eyes, her face lighting up with realization. "That's what you were doing in my backyard, that night I caught you on the security camera. That's why you were wearing the black hoodie."

Hanna groans. "Why does this have to make so much sense?"

"I do have one question, though," Mona speaks up, watching Ali warily. "A had you convicted for my murder. Why would you do that to yourself?"

The question sends a wave of confusion through me, but Alison, naturally, doesn't even hesitate. In fact, it even looks like her face flushes with pride. "Oh, that was a good one. See, at that point Charlotte was starting the plans for the dollhouse. Of course she wasn't going to trap me down in this awful place. But you all were so convinced that I was A, I knew how it would look if you were all kidnapped while I was running free around Rosewood."

My heart sinks even lower. This is insane. Alison actually sent herself to _prison_ so she wouldn't be suspected in the girls' disappearance. "You gave yourself the perfect alibi," I mutter.

Her smile widens. "You can't kidnap and torture a bunch of girls while you're behind bars. It's a good thing I wasn't the only one playing the game."

"God," Spencer says with a short laugh, her lip curling in distaste. Her arms are folded tightly across her chest like a shield. "I can't believe I actually felt sorry for you. All those conversations we had when you got out of jail, about how isolated and alone you felt. Was that all just a bunch of lies?"

Alison tilts her head thoughtfully. "I knew people in Rosewood didn't trust me. But I can't say I really cared. I still had Charlotte." Her eyes narrow as she makes a face. "And Sara. As soon as she was rescued from the dollhouse, she did everything she could to get back in Charlotte's good graces. She even sent her a lame birthday gift. But I guess it must have worked. She was allowed to don the red coat once again."

"Let me guess," Mona says flatly, nearly cutting Alison off. I bite my lip, resisting the urge to tell her to be more careful. We're dealing with two psychopaths here – who knows what they might do if they get annoyed with one of us? "You were in on everything the night Charlotte revealed herself, too, weren't you?"

"Of course I was," Alison replies simply. Emily lets out a small whimper. "It was Charlotte's idea to end the game, not mine, so I made her change her story just enough to leave out my role. My acting was pretty good, don't you girls think?" She straightens up, her eyes filling with tears, her lip trembling with fear. "Charlotte…please don't do this…please don't blow up Radley…" she says in a shaking voice. Then she smirks, and the rest of us grimace, exchanging looks. The amount of fun she's having is starting to get old.

I tear my gaze away from Ali, looking to Ezra instead. "I still don't understand how you got involved in this."

"Like I said before," he answers, tapping one sneaker-clad foot against the cement floor, "I was furious when I found out about Alison's pregnancy. I had as little to do with her as I could until I got back from South America, just a few months before you all came back to town. I was in a rough place, missing Nicole, struggling to come up with an idea for a new book…and she popped back into my life at just the right time."

Alison smiles at him, and my stomach twists. "It was like we were meeting in that bar all over again."

"Are you saying that you two were _seeing_ each other?" Hanna demands. She brushes her hair out of her face frantically, looking completely exasperated.

"In a way," Ezra says after a brief hesitation. "But it was more than that. It was like we were…fascinated with each other."

"An obsession of the best kind," Ali agrees, shifting closer to him. "Rollins – or whatever his real name was – was good for a little entertainment, but what Ezra and I have is so much realer than any of that."

Emily turns away. Aria presses a hand to her mouth. "Okay, just – just stop, okay?" she blurts out, her voice high-pitched and thin. "We really don't need to hear all of this."

Ezra casts his eyes down, but Alison's smile stretches wider, like this whole thing is delighting her. "We'd only been back in contact for a month or so when Charlotte was released from the hospital," she goes on. The smile drops from her face as quickly as if a switch was flipped. Her face clouds over. "And then she was murdered." She strides quickly across the room, raising her chin.

"Ali," Emily whispers nervously.

Alison stops directly in front of my sister's cage. Her eyes are blazing. "If I'd gotten you alone that night you went nuts, you'd better believe I would have wrapped my hands right around your neck," she hisses. Mona meets her gaze, not flinching, but I bite my tongue, horrified. Aria gasps, and Emily backs up until she runs into the bars of her cell.

"Alison," Ezra says, a slight edge to his voice. "Don't live in the past. You'll get your revenge."

Alison lets out a breath, her gaze still locked on my sister. "And soon," she whispers, sending a shiver through my whole body. Then she turns and struts back to stand by Ezra.

As he continues the story, I consider their words. Revenge. What is _that_ supposed to mean? Once again, I'm consumed by the dreadful feeling that we're not going to be able to get out of here.

"Charlotte's death was tragic," Ezra says, putting his hand on Alison's shoulder. "But one good thing did come from it."

…

 _"_ _They did something. I know they did." Alison paced back and forth across Ezra's loft, her arms folded tight across her chest and her eyes wild. Charlotte's funeral had been several days ago, and grief was still coursing through her veins like a drug. In a way, she thought bitterly, Rosewood itself kind of_ was _a drug._

 _Ezra stepped toward her, his arm outstretched cautiously. "Ali – "_

 _"_ _You should have seen the look on Hanna's face at dinner," she snarled, cutting him off. "And Aria, skipping town right after she tried to sabotage Charlotte's release? They're so guilty."_

 _Ezra cleared his throat, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Are you sure telling Lorenzo was such a good idea?"_

 _Ali whirled around, reeling back as if he'd slapped her. "What the hell else am I supposed to do? I'm not going to let them get away with this. Charlotte was my – "_

 _"_ _I know, I know." Ezra grabbed her arms, holding her steady in front of him. "But look. We both know what the police in this town are like. You think that if Toby finds out about this, he's not going to run and tell Spencer everything?"_

 _Ali sucked in a breath, a bit of her fury deflating at his words. "You don't know that."_

 _"_ _No, but I do know that if we take this into our own hands, we can guarantee an answer," Ezra went on, speaking quickly before she could get worked up again. "Listen. I still have a lot of my old surveillance equipment in a storage room near Philly."_

 _"_ _Are you saying what I think you are?" she asked, her eyes widening as she pulled out of his grasp._

 _"_ _A's game was all about your murder, right?" Ezra asked, his voice rising in excitement, especially when Alison's eyes began to gleam. "Why don't we do the same thing? We be A together, solve Charlotte's murder, and…" He trailed off._

 _Ali cocked an eyebrow. "And what, Ezra?"_

 _Suddenly unsure how she would react, he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "We write a book. A murder mystery, all about the poor, reformed Rosewood girl who was murdered her first night home." Ali opened her mouth, her brow furrowing, but he continued before she could speak, "I'll be the author, but you'll…you'll be the main character. The antagonistic figure, but one you can't help but feel sorry for at the same time. The girl desperate to solve her beloved sister's murder."_

 _He stopped, waiting with bated breath for her reaction. She stared at him thoughtfully for a few moments, several different emotions flitting across her face. Then, finally, her mouth curved into a smile. "I'd be the perfect antihero," she whispered. "And we get to nail Charlotte's killer to the wall at the same time? I'm in."_

 _"_ _Your friends will be wrapped right back around your finger," Ezra assured her. "Just like they were years ago."_

 _Ali nodded, smirking. "Sounds like a win for both of us. You get to write your next bestseller – "_

 _" –_ _and you get to find out who killed your sister, and get to be the center of your friends' attention again," Ezra finished._

 _"_ _Just one condition," Alison said suddenly, holding out her palm. Ezra raised his eyebrows, startled, but then she grinned sneakily. "We're not going by A. I'm a lot of things, but a copycat isn't one of them." She gazed thoughtfully around the room, her mind whirring, until her eyes finally landed on a worn copy of_ The Great Gatsby, _packed tightly into Ezra's overflowing bookshelf._

 _"_ _I've got it," she blurted, her eyes locked on the name of the author, F. Scott Fitzgerald. "A.D."_

 _"_ _A.D.?" Ezra repeated, smiling at her in an amused sort of way. "For Alison DiLaurentis?"_

 _"_ _No," she said, giving him a little shove on the shoulder. "We're writing a book, aren't we? It's the bookend letters of our names. Alison DiLaurentis and Ezra Fitzgerald."_

…

It's not like I haven't known this whole time that Alison and Ezra are A.D., but hearing them say it, hearing the actual story of how they began the game again, makes this whole situation seem much more serious. I gulp, fear coursing through me all over again.

"Just a few days later, we sent the first text," Alison declares, looking proud of herself. "But after a while, the messages started to get boring. You four weren't making any progress in finding Charlotte's killer, and it was getting hard for me to play the game while making myself look like I was a victim of it, too."

"We needed a new plot point to really amp things up," Ezra adds, and I flinch, still trying to wrap my head around the idea of them doing all of this for some stupid book.

Spencer grimaces. "The board game."

"It wasn't easy to build, I'll tell you that. But luckily Charlotte taught me a few skills when I visited her at the hospital." Alison breaks out into a grin. "You should have seen the looks on your faces when we opened it up for the first time. Priceless. Almost as good as the look on _your_ face – " She turns abruptly to face Emily. " – when I told you I was pregnant."

Emily's face falls. "I don't understand. You're…you're not having our baby?"

Ali smirks and pats her stomach, which I'm just realizing looks suspiciously flatter than it did a few days ago. "I know that A has always seemed all-powerful, but stealing your eggs and implanting them in me? I can't believe you actually fell for that."

"No," Emily whispers. A tear slips from the corner of her eye and rolls down her cheek. I don't think I've ever seen someone look so heartbroken. My stomach starts to ache. "Ali…you told me we were going to be a family. We were going to raise this baby together."

Spencer clutches the bars of her cage. Her expression is murderous. "Why would you do that to her?" she hisses through clenched teeth.

Ali shrugs, lifting an eyebrow. "You've always been the easiest to manipulate, Em," she says lightly, walking closer to Emily's cell and running her hand along one of the metal rods separating them. "This just took things a step further. You were so wrapped up in worrying about me and the baby, Paige couldn't have been further from your mind."

"Wait, Paige?" Aria pipes up from a few feet away. "What does Paige have to do with this?"

"I wasn't worried about Sabrina. I knew she didn't mean anything to you. But when Paige showed up…you have so much history with her. I saw how you looked at her when she nosed her way into Spencer's house the day Hanna went missing. I couldn't risk you choosing Paige over me. The pregnancy was the perfect way to make sure you couldn't."

As she speaks, I watch Emily carefully. Her despair is practically written all over her face. Tears are flowing freely down her cheeks now. "I thought you'd really changed," she sobs, pressing a hand to her mouth.

Alison raises her chin, observing her with an unreadable expression. "Sorry, Emily," she says finally, sounding almost sincere. Then her lips curve into a smirk, and she adds, her voice a perfect imitation of Charlotte, "But not really."

That seems to break something inside of Emily, and she drops to her knees on the floor of the cage, her face twisting in agony. "Emily," Hanna cries, reaching between the bars of her own cell, but she's too far away to reach.

Spencer's eyes narrow dangerously. "Alison," she whispers, her voice low and trembling with what can only be barely-controlled anger. "I swear to God, the second we get out of here, I am going to – "

Ezra barks out a laugh, walking closer to us. "You think you're getting out of here? After everything we told you?"

"This is where the story ends," Alison chimes in, rotating slowly in a circle. Her voice rises, echoing eerily off of the blank concrete walls. "The perfect climax for our book. A.D. is finally going to get her revenge."

My heart drops like a stone into my stomach. I look worriedly at Mona, my stomach twisting with nerves. I don't like the sound of this. "What are you going to do?" I blurt out, trying to conceal my fear.

Alison eyes me, shaking her head. Her expression is pitying. "Oh, Viola. You could have avoided all of this, if you'd only kept your mouth shut and stopped digging where you didn't belong. But you know too much now."

I gasp in disbelief. She can't be serious. _She's_ the one who told me about her fake miscarriage. _She's_ the one who kidnapped my sister. And now she's trying to insinuate that it's my own fault I'm wrapped up in this? My fingers twitch with the desire to burst out of this cage and shove her against the wall.

"So how does the story end?" Mona asks, her voice hard. "What's your final plan?"

Alison and Ezra exchange a sinister look. "This bunker's been here, abandoned, for years," Ezra explains calmly. "Who knows what kind of electrical issues it might have?"

"Maybe it was a busted fuse, or a short circuit," Ali goes on, glancing up at the wires connected to the security camera, high above our heads. "Or maybe it was some sort of suicide pact. But all the police are going to know is that six girls were mysteriously found dead in the middle of an old, forgotten bunker."


	23. Chapter 23

_Thank you thank you thank you_ as always to everyone who left such nice feedback on the last chapter! It was all of your kind words that made me want to get this next chapter out so quickly. I'm glad you are all enjoying, especially as we move into the last few chapters of the story. As always, please make sure to drop me a review and let me know what you think! A good amount of feedback leads to a quicker update!

* * *

Chapter 23

A terrible, cold silence settles over the room. Alison shuts her mouth and beams, clearly thrilled with our reaction. I'm pretty sure we're all thinking the same thing: How the hell are we going to get out of this?

At last, Spencer says, just the tiniest hint of a waver in her voice, "So then what? The police find us dead down here, you publish your book, and you get arrested for our murder? Sounds like a great plan."

Across the room, Hanna shrugs, jutting out her lower lip thoughtfully. "I can get behind at least one part of that."

Ali and Ezra exchange a simpering look. "Do we look stupid to you?" she asks haughtily. Mona opens her mouth, but I clear my throat sharply and shoot her a look. This is _so_ not the time to be a smartass.

"We haven't gotten further than the research phase," Ezra explains, clasping his hands behind his back in a way that, in another context, might look scholarly. "It'll take at least a year to get everything written and finalized. By then, the police will have long declared this case a tragic accident, and the book will simply be a fictionalized 'what-if' account."

"People write them all the time," Ali adds, linking her arm casually through his. "No one will ever believe it could be true."

That seems like a bit of a stretch to me, and my heart lifts a little at the possibility that even if we do die down here, at least we might get some justice. But Ezra's next words send my hope crashing to the ground. "And even if they did, it's not like they'd find any evidence."

"Ali," Emily chokes out, tears still streaming down her face. It sounds like she can barely get the word out. "You don't have to do this."

Alison surveys her, squinting a little, as if to really get a good look. "You really were my favorite, Emily," she whispers after a long moment. I'm not sure if she meant it as a compliment or a further punch to the gut, but Emily takes in a shuddering breath and buries her face in her hands.

I glance at my sister. If looks could kill, she would be sending lasers through Ali's head right now. "Can you at least give us the human decency of telling us what you're going to do?"

Ezra shrugs. "Can't hurt," he says to Alison. "It's not like they can do anything about it." When she just nods indifferently, he continues, "Pipe bombs are surprisingly simple to make, you know."

A squeak of fear escapes through my lips before I can stop it. "You're going to _blow us up?"_

"Oh God, no," Ezra chuckles, sounding unsettlingly like the enthusiastic high school English teacher he used to be. "That would take forever to construct. No, all this bomb is going to do is start a little fire down the hall…the spilled gasoline will take care of the rest."

My throat tightens as if it's already filling with smoke. They're going to set the bunker on fire. They're going to let us go down in flames.

"Okay, great," Spencer says sarcastically from the cage beside me. "So aren't you both just going to burn right along with us?"

Alison smiles slyly and pulls something small, square, and metallic out of the front pocket of her black sweatshirt. It's blank except for a single black button. "We rigged the pipe bomb to go off remotely," she answers with a sugary smile. "But it's so sweet of you to think of us, Spence."

Ezra pushes up the sleeve of his hoodie and checks his watch. "I think it's time to get going. We have a few things to set up before we get out of here."

Ali's face is practically glowing with anticipation. My stomach does another flip as she tosses her hair over her shoulder and turns toward the door. "It's been fun, girls," she says breezily, her gaze lingering on her four old best friends. "But it looks like this is the end of the line."

"Wait," Aria cries suddenly, her hands running up and down the bars of her cage. Her eyes lock onto Ezra's. "You – you don't have to do this. Ezra…please. Please, just let us go. You can write your book. We won't stop you. Just don't do this to us. To _me."_

He stares at her for a long moment, and I swear I can see indecision flit across his face. Her heart lifts with hope. Maybe, despite everything he just told us, there's still a shred of humanity left in him.

But then he shakes his head, his hands clenching into fists. "Make sure you lock the door behind you," he mutters to Alison, pushing his way out of the room. Aria lets out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a squeak.

Alison moves to follow him, placing a hand on the door and glancing back to give us one last look. "You'd better say your goodbyes," she says in a low, dark voice. "Before it's too late."

"Ali," Spencer calls, her voice tinged with desperation. "Aria's right. All we care about is getting out of here. You can write the book, you can do whatever you want with it. We'll leave you alone."

"We won't tell anyone," I add, hoping my tone is sincere enough. "We swear."

Alison purses her lips, surveying the six of us with an undecipherable expression. Then she sighs, so pityingly that she must be acting. "Sorry, sweetie, but that's just too big of a risk for me to take." Then she saunters through the door with another word. The metallic sound of the lock sliding into place rings out across the room, the final nail in the coffin. _Our_ coffin.

"So what?" Hanna yells, throwing her arms out at her sides as soon as Ali's gone. "We're all gonna die down here, and they're just gonna get away with the whole thing?"

"Oh, God," Emily groans, pressing her hands against her eyes.

"There has to be a way out of here," Mona says quietly, tilting her head back to analyze the top of her cell. "Spencer, what you were saying before about momentum, I think – "

But we don't get to find out what she thinks, because at that moment the front panels of each of our cages pop open with a firm _click._

My sister trails off, and the six of us go quiet. No one dares make a move. I glance nervously around at the others, my head spinning. This has to be some kind of trap, right? Let us believe that we're free, wait for us to make a run for it, and then…what? They're already going to let us burn to death down here. What could be worse than that?

Spencer is the first to speak, her voice soft as she shoots a look up at the security camera fixed to the ceiling in the corner. "Maybe it was a mistake."

"One of them must have accidentally pressed a button, or…something," Aria adds faintly.

I stare at the door, my heart pounding in my ears. Any second now, Alison or Ezra is going to burst in here, I just know it. But when several long moments pass and the door remains motionless, I finally take in a breath and step cautiously out of the cage.

This time, I don't feel any sense of freedom, just an overwhelming dread. The other girls, following my lead, walk out of their cells as well. Hanna even reaches back and pushes the open panel of hers closed behind her.

"Should we…try and run?" I ask hesitantly. "Maybe the door unlocked as well."

"I'll try anything," Emily replies sharply, and walks stiffly over to the door. We wait with bated breath as she pulls hard on the handle. "It's still locked," she calls, backing away from it as if it might reach out and grab her.

"I don't get it," Aria says, shaking her head frantically. "Why would they let us out?"

"To make this look like it really was an accident," Mona gasps, straightening up with the realization. When the rest of us turn to look at her, she goes on quickly, "Think about it. If they left us locked up, what's the first thing the first responders would find after the fire? A bunch of burned corpses trapped inside metal cages. Does that seem like some tragic electrical accident to you?"

"You're right," I murmur, my eyes on the large stenciled number "three" on the bottom of the cell I'd been locked in. "They need to make it look like we came down here on our own."

"They thought of everything," Spencer whispers, letting out an incredulous laugh. "Every last detail."

"No one can think of everything," Mona argues. "There has to be a slip-up, something they missed. We just have to figure out what it is."

"There's some kind of vent up there," I comment, pointing to an opening high above our heads. "But it looks too small for any of us to climb through."

"Maybe we could find something to run the door down with," Emily's saying, just as a small slip of paper slides under the door.

"What the hell is that?" Hanna breathes, staring at it like it's something from another planet.

"Whatever it is, it's definitely not a bomb," Aria mutters.

Mona rolls her eyes. "For God's sake, it's just a piece of paper," she snaps, and reaches down for it. I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to cry out for her to be careful. For all we know it could be triggered to self-destruct or something. At this point, after everything that's happened over the past week or so, I wouldn't be surprised.

But as my sister turns it over in her hands, it appears to be a normal sheet of paper in every way. She unfolds it and stares down at it, pressing her lips together. "Oh my God."

"What?" Spencer demands, and we all crowd around. I peer over Aria's shoulder, bending my head to get a better look at the words scrawled in messy cursive across the page. This was clearly written in a hurry.

 _I've blocked off the exit so they can't escape. I'm going to get the police. I'm on your side._

Spencer gasps, reaching out to run a finger along the words. "That's Mary's handwriting."

I furrow my brow, feeling a pang of suspicion. It _had_ seemed like Mary had directed us toward the exit the last time we saw her, but I still can't help but wonder whose side she's really on. "Do you think we can trust this?"

"Yeah," Hanna agrees, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'd bet my nicest pair of Louboutins that this is a trap."

"Why would it be?" Spencer protests, clutching the note in both hands. "What could either Ezra or Ali possibly gain from this?"

"Lure us into a false sense of security," Mona says with a shrug. "We're less likely to try and escape if we think the police are on their way."

"Yeah, because we all know how helpful Tanner and her goons are," Spencer mutters.

I study the note again, conflicted – do I really let myself believe that we might actually be saved? But then my eyes flit to something below the words. "Guys, what's that?"

Spencer shifts her fingers out of the way. Taped to the paper is a small, thin bobby pin. Her eyes wide, Spencer rips it off of the note and holds it up. Its metal casing glints in the dim light, and a smile twitches at her lips. "I think Mary just gave us a way out of this room."

She strides immediately toward the door, but Aria grabs her arm before she can kneel down in front of the lock. "Spence, wait. Should we really try and break out of here?"

Emily nods, twisting her hands together anxiously. "Maybe we should just stay here and wait for the police." She stares at the ground, her face paling, and I know that she's afraid of leaving this room, of possibly running into Alison again.

"No, Emily, are you crazy?" Hanna exclaims, gesturing to the door. "Who knows how long it'll take the cops to get here? Ali and Ezra could have burned us to a crisp by then!"

"Hanna's right," Mona agrees immediately. "There could be another exit, one they didn't trust Mary enough to tell her about. We can't take the chance. We need to get out of here."

My stomach twists. I hadn't even thought about that. What if there really is more than one way out of the bunker? Surely Ali and Ezra know this place better than any of us. They could have already figured out what Mary did and are heading out the back way right now to activate their insane bomb.

"Spencer, do you think you can pick the lock?" I ask anxiously as Spencer squats down beside the door, turning the bobby pin over in her hands.

"It'll take a minute or so," she answers breathlessly. "But I'm sure I can."

As she fiddles with the lock, the rest of us gather around, the tension so thick that it makes my skin itch. As I wait, I think back on Ali and Ezra's whole, crazy story. A.D. has been right under our noses this whole time and we never even knew it. They had us all fooled.

"God," I mutter, unable to stop myself from letting out a laugh as I consider everything we just found out. Everyone except Spencer turns to look at me, Aria jolting a little in surprise. "Sorry. I just…they really did think of everything."

Hanna shakes her head in disgust. "Alison even had us convinced that A was forcing her to play the game along with us."

"That must have been why she wanted me to come with her to that baby store, the day she took her turn," Aria adds, a look of realization passing over her features. "By the time she figured out I hadn't followed her in, she must have already started her big act."

Emily looks like she's about to throw up all over the floor. I shift away from her subtly, just in case. "I just can't believe – "

"Got it," Spencer cuts her off, leaping up triumphantly. The bobby pin is jutting out of the lock, and when she pulls the knob, the door clicks open.

A strange combination of relief and sheer terror washes over me all at once. "Don't we need to come up with some kind of plan?"

Hanna snorts. "Yeah, because our plans always work out so well. I say we just run and try to find another way out of here, and if we come across Ali or Ezra we do what we have to."

"Meaning what?" Mona asks, raising an eyebrow and looking almost amused.

Hanna shrugs thoughtfully. "I've been in the mood for a good ass-kicking since I woke up down here."

My mind flashes back to the gun that Ezra was holding earlier, but it's too late. Hanna and Mona have started down the hall, looking way more confident than they probably should. I exchange a glance with Spencer, and the rest of us rush after them.

I can't help but think of the last time I was down here as we march quietly down the dark, silent hallway. All the times the six of us huddled together, clutching each other's arms as we rounded every corner, terrified of whatever new game Charlotte had in store for us.

It's like we've come full-circle. But Alison was right. This is where the story ends, one way or another. For good this time.

"Are we looking for A.D., or for a way out?" Emily whispers as we walk carefully down the long hallway, lined with broken theater-style lights.

"Either?" I reply uncertainly, at the same time that my sister answers, "Both."

"We should go back to that creepy research room," Hanna suggests.

"Yeah, find out if Mary was really telling the truth in that note," Aria agrees eagerly. "Even if she wasn't, we know there's a way out in there."

We exchange glances and nod. That room is at the very end of the hallway, and our strides get larger and more confident the closer we get. I'm not even thinking of where Ezra and Alison could be, if they're even down here at all. My heart pounds faster and faster as we approach the door containing all of their spy gear and research. There's a chance that the door really is unblocked – that we can actually get out of here without fighting our way through flames.

It's just starting to occur to me that something about this seems a little too easy when the door to our left, the one that I'm pretty sure used to be the recreation of Ali's bedroom, creaks open. My heart flies into my throat, and I leap back, colliding with Emily. "What the hell?"

"Ah, so you found your way out," a cool voice remarks, and a moment later both Ali and Ezra emerge from the room. I strain my neck, catching a glimpse of something small and black perched atop the stripped bed. I swallow hard. The bomb. It must be.

But they wouldn't really try to blow this place up while they're stuck down here too, would they?

"I don't know how you bitches managed to pick the lock, but I assure you, this is as far as you're getting," Alison continues, looking unsettlingly unfazed by our escape.

Mona smirks. "We had a little help. Remember Mary? Turns out she's not as much of an ally as you thought."

Ali's face darkens. Ezra's eyes widen. "I knew trusting her was a bad idea," he hisses.

"Shut up," she snaps back, her face reddening in anger. Then she straightens up and takes in a deep breath, looking around at all of us. "Here's what's going to happen. The six of you are going to go back to your room, and you are going to _stay there._ "

"Right," Spencer snorts, rolling her eyes. "Sorry, Ali. But the game's over. We outnumber you. Just give it up."

At her words, Ali's mouth curves into a smirk. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," she whispers. My blood runs cold as Ezra reaches into the pocket of his sweatshirt. There's a flash of silver, and the gun is back in his hand, pointing directly at us.

Aria's face drains of color. Hanna gasps out loud. Mona clutches my hand. We stumble backward as Alison and Ezra move further into the hallway. "Who outnumbers who now?" Alison sneers. Then she glances at Ezra. "Everything's all set?"

"I have the remote," he confirms, patting his pocket with the hand not aiming the gun. "We can get out of here. And I don't think they'll be trying to stop us." He waves the weapon, and I clamp my mouth shut to keep from screaming. There's nothing we can do. No one's willing to jump at them and risk getting shot.

Both halves of A.D. walk slowly away from us. "I hope one of you brought some sunscreen," Alison calls, pausing in the doorway. "Because in a few minutes, you're going to need it." She practically skips into the room, with Ezra at her heels.

I blink back terrified tears, gazing at the girls around me. No one moves. I think there's only one question on all of our minds, and after just a few moments, it's answered. "What the hell?" Alison screeches, her voice booming down the long hallway.

"Who did this?" Ezra shouts. There's a loud bang, as if someone slammed their fist against something hard and solid.

Aria sucks in a breath. "Mary really did block the exit," she murmurs, her face lighting up.

"Does it matter?" Hanna hisses. "They still have a gun."

"Yeah," Spencer replies, grabbing her arm. "But we can get it away from them."

But there's no time to even consider coming up with a plan before Ali and Ezra are racing back into the hallway, straight for us. Everyone screams, the sound ripping raw from my throat as I leap out of the way, my eyes on the gun, waving wildly in Ezra's hand.

Only my sister looks unafraid. "So now what? You can't exactly blow us up when you're stuck down here yourselves."

Alison whirls to face her. Her voice comes out in a low, furious snarl. "You think that just because we're not going to set this place on fire, you're going to get out of here alive?" She takes a step back toward us, her eyes gleaming with the familiar slyness of a new idea. "No. No, this is even better. It won't be an accident. It'll be a group suicide."

Ezra grins, turning the sleek handgun over in his gloved hands. "When – I mean, _if_ – you're found, the police will think this was just a tragic case of six disturbed girls, returning to the site of their famous kidnapping to take their own lives."

"And what about the two of you?" I ask, my voice shaking uncontrollably despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

"Oh, don't worry about us," Ali answers, waving her hand dismissively. "We can find our own way out. We'll have plenty of time, after all." My stomach sinks. Even if the police get here and catch them, it'll be too late. We'll already be dead.

"The question is, who should we take out first?" Ezra muses, tapping the barrel of the gun casually against his hip. His eyes pass over all of us. Aria lets out a whimper, and Spencer holds tight to her hand.

Alison doesn't hesitate. Her gaze lands directly on my sister. "How about the person who started all of this? I told you, honey, revenge is coming. And it is going to be so sweet."

I'm pretty sure my heart goes still in my chest as Ezra aims the gun at Mona. "No," I cry out, throwing my arm in front of her. "Don't – please…" A sob catches in my throat.

"Viola, get out of the way," Mona whispers shakily, but I don't move. What does it matter? We're all going to die anyway. I might as well try to help my sister, even if it's in vain.

"No, don't," Ali says gleefully, standing safely a few paces behind Ezra, out of the gun's path. "Two for the price of one? Sounds good to me."

"This is the beginning of the end," Ezra declares, and holds the gun high. It's like we're frozen in time. Mona squeezes her eyes shut, holding her breath. Spencer's face has gone deathly white. Emily's chest is heaving. And my fear is so intense that I barely feel it at all, like I'm floating somewhere above all of us, watching but not really there.

The click of the safety releasing sounds. Ezra takes aim at my sister. And then, all in one flash of movement, Aria leaps forward, wraps her arms around his waist, and knocks him to the ground.

The gun flies from his hand, skidding across the concrete floor. Something falls from his pocket, something small and square. _The remote._

The room comes to life again. There's a mad dash for the gun. Ezra shoves Aria off of him, and she hits the ground hard, her head knocking against the wall. I see a flash of blond hair in my peripheral vision and elbow the person hard in the face, only to wince when Hanna cries out. Turning my head, I see both Spencer and Ali holding each other back as they reach for the gun.

Large hands wrap around my waist, yanking me back. I scream, kicking hard, unsure what Ezra is trying to do except prevent me from getting to the weapon. My heel connects with his gut, and he lets out a groan, releasing me. I fall to the floor, gasping. Mona grabs my hands and helps me up. We both whip around just in time to see it happen.

It's as if everything begins moving in slow motion. Ezra stumbles backward, his hands scrabbling against the smooth wall fruitlessly. Then his feet slip out from under him, and he falls back. And suddenly, it's as if we're all on the same side. "No!" Spencer screams.

"Look out!" Alison cries.

But it's too late. Ezra's hand slaps down hard to break his fall, but it doesn't land on the ground. It lands on the small silver remote, forgotten in the chaos of scrambling to get the gun.

Directly on the button that activities that bomb.


	24. Chapter 24

Only three reviews on the last chapter was a little disappointing, I have to admit. I've been getting such great feedback that I just chalked up the lack of response to the craziness of the holiday season. I hope you are all having a great end to the year - we're almost to the end of this story, as well! There's only one chapter after this one, so please be sure to review and let me know what you think. Your thoughts mean so much to me.

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Chapter 24

For a moment, silence.

And then the loudest clap of thunder that I've ever heard.

At least that's what it feels like. The narrow space between the door and the ground glows red, and eight screams combine as we all leap back. I press myself against the opposing wall, reaching out frantically for whoever happens to be beside me. I wrap my hand tightly around Aria's forearm, holding my breath as I wait for shards of the wooden door to hit my face.

But after the horrific sound…there's nothing. No splintering of wood, no impact throwing us backward. My chest heaving, I straighten up and exchange glances with the five girls around me. "Was that…it?"

They shrug, looking clueless, but Ali and Ezra are watching the door, their widened eyes the only sign that they're nervous. "Please tell me you forgot to pour the gasoline," Ezra hisses under his breath.

Alison's face has drained of color. "Of course I didn't forget."

"Shit," Ezra says, at the exact same moment that the door to the room containing the detonated bomb bursts into flames. A scream rips up through my throat, but I barely feel it. The flames crackle and punch toward us, growing larger by the second.

"Come on, this way!" Spencer shouts, and takes off down the hall. I follow close on her heels, sweat already beading on my forehead from the combination of the fire and the lack of fresh air in this underground bunker.

The blank brown walls and closed doors are all identical, and I'm disoriented, running blindly with the others. Suddenly it doesn't matter that two people in the herd are A.D. The only thing that matters is that we get the hell out of here.

Near the end of the hallway looms the door to Ali and Ezra's lair, and we skid inside. I grab the doorframe as I run, nearly tripping in my haste. The room has been completely cleared out. It's empty except for the desk and bookshelf. Clearly Alison and Ezra remembered to clean out their book research and stalker gear before they set this place ablaze.

I shoot a glance behind me, out into the hallway. Flames completely engulf the other end of the bunker, and they're spreading toward us. Black smoke billows through the air in large, menacing bursts.

"Oh my god," Mona murmurs, grabbing my arm as we all whirl frantically around the room, desperate and growing hysterical.

"It's gonna be okay," I reply, but my voice is trembling so badly that even I don't believe it. This is not going to be okay. There is absolutely no possible way this can end well.

The bookshelf has already been pushed aside, from when Ali and Ezra attempted to abandon us not long ago, and Spencer goes immediately to the exit. Something large and wooden sits just on the other side of the doorway, in front of the staircase leading up to ground level.

"What is this thing?" she demands, pushing at it with both hands.

"Do you think we can move it?" Aria cries, rushing to her side. Emily joins them, and the three of them throw their weight against the solid surface, to no avail. Whatever structure is blocking our only way out doesn't budge.

"Are you sure this is the only exit?" I yell, looking to Alison and Ezra. They're standing against the far wall, watching the rest of us with expressions of only slight interest. I can tell that they're putting on a front, but I can see the terror in their eyes. This is obviously not part of the plan. They were supposed to be long gone by now.

 _Where the hell is Mary with the police?_

"It is," Ezra confirms, sticking his hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. "We made sure of it."

"Wait a minute," Hanna gasps, coughing on the smoke that's started to enter the room. I take in a breath of it myself and immediately pull the neck of my shirt up to cover my nose and mouth. "The last time we set a fire down here, all those sprinklers went off. What happened to the alarm system?"

Alison's mouth twitches. "We disabled it," she answers, waving smoke out of her face with a gloved hand. "Obviously."

"You really did want to kill us," Emily breathes. Her eyes are shining, and I'm pretty sure the smoke that's beginning to coat the room isn't the cause.

"And there's nothing we can use to try and contain the fire?" my sister cries, looking about as hysterical as she did the night that we were all locked in Thornhill Lodge. I wind my arm through hers, although I'm not so sure it's going to be much of a comfort. My entire body is shaking so badly that my teeth bang against each other.

Ali snorts. "You think we'd actually give you girls a way to save yourselves?" she asks in disbelief. Then she whips around to face Ezra, her eyes suddenly blazing. "This wasn't supposed to happen this way!"

"You think I don't know that?" he yells back, stepping closer to her. A flush creeps up the back of his neck. "It's not like this is my fault!"

"If you hadn't landed like an oaf on that remote – "

"Oh, and what about Mary? We wouldn't be in this mess at all if you hadn't been so desperate to let one of your crazy family members on this team!"

My eyes wide, I exchange a glance with Mona and inch backward, away from them. Maybe if they stay distracted for just a moment, we can figure out what to do. The others are gathered around the exit, pounding and shoving vigorously against the wooden blockade, with what looks like no success. "I don't think this plan is really working," I call out, shooting a nervous glance back toward the door. I can just make out the sparks of the flames edging into the doorway. "Anybody have any other ideas?"

"Without water, the only thing I can think of is digging a hole to try and at least slow down the spread of the flames," Spencer says hastily, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Hanna stomps her foot against the hard, solid floor. "Dig a hole with _what?_ "

"I'm not saying it's possible," Spencer replies, a little snappishly. "It's just all that comes to mind."

I glance around the mostly empty room, blood rushing in my ears. "Maybe there's something in here we can use to break the floor."

"Don't bother," a dark voice growls, and we all spin around. My heart seizes at the sight of Alison and Ezra. They're no longer fighting – they're standing side-by-side across the room. The handgun flashes silver in Ezra's hand, flecks of red from the spreading fire reflecting off of its shiny surface.

"What do you think you're going to do?" Mona asks, raising her eyebrows and jutting her chin toward the hallway, where the flames are growing closer and closer to the door. "Kill us?"

The two halves of A.D. exchange a look. "Yes, actually," Ali responds, taking a step closer. "See, our plan was foolproof. There's no way out. We're all going to burn down here."

"That means we won't get to write our book," Ezra goes on, shrugging. The amount of indifference on his face is alarming. I take a cautious step back. "But we can still get our revenge."

"Revenge for Charlotte," Alison announces, as Ezra angles the barrel of the gun toward us.

"But – but we're going to die anyway," Aria cries, choking a little on the words. The smoke is growing so thick that I have to squint just to see her. "Why would you – "

"The six of you burning in the fire isn't good enough," Ali practically spits out. "Not anymore. We set off the bomb by accident. No, I want you all to die purposefully – at our hands."

My head is spinning. Her logic makes no sense. When they were going to leave us trapped down here and then activate the bomb purposefully, that was fine, but now that it was an accident it's suddenly not good enough? I take in Ali and Ezra's sneering faces, and fully realize for the first time that they really are insane. My heart takes a dive into my stomach.

We're really going to die.

"We don't have much time," Ezra remarks, glancing at the fire that's beginning to spread into the doorway. Neither he nor Ali look the least bit concerned with their inevitable death. "We have to do this quick."

She shoots him a curt nod, then holds her hand out. He passes the gun to her. "You have no idea," she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames, "how long I've been waiting to do this."

Even though it's blazing hot in this room, I'm shaking so hard that my teeth bang against each other. With every breath, I grow dizzier. This is the end, I guess. We've closely evaded death just a few too many times – and it doesn't look like we're going to get lucky once again. I reach out and grasp my sister's hand tightly. I can hear Spencer breathing behind me.

And then her next breath comes in a faint, ghost-like whisper. " _On three._ " Instinctively, I know exactly what she means. My stomach clenches, and it takes me a moment to realize that it's with determination, not fear. " _One…two…_ "

Alison's just raising the gun on "three," but it's too late. We move as though we'd been planning this all along. Spencer bolts forward and grabs Ali around the waist, knocking her to the ground. Mona, Hanna, and Emily all go for Ezra, the three of them shoving him away before he can reach his partner in crime. Aria helps Spencer pin Ali to the ground, and the gun flies from her hand. I dive for it, but my fingers are barely grazing its smooth surface when a hand wraps around my ankle and pulls me back.

I scream, twisting around to see Alison holding onto me. Aria is desperately trying to claw her off. Spencer is sitting a few feet behind her, groaning and rubbing her knee. Even under her pants I can see that it's swelling. I gasp, momentarily distracted. "Spencer, are you – " But before I can finish, Alison lurches forward, shoving a knee into the center of my back.

Pain rockets through my body as I slam to the ground under her weight. The gun slips from my fingers. Still on top of me, Alison reaches over my head and snatches it. "Nice try," she simpers, an ugly sneer spreading across her face. "But it's too late. Why don't you just make this easier for yourselves and stop fighting?"

"You're all going to die anyway," Ezra calls. I turn my head the best I can. Emily, Hanna, and my sister are all holding him tight against the wall, and sweat pours down his forehead as he struggles to break away from them.

Ali smirks down at me. "I was going to take care of your sister first, but how could I pass up this opportunity?" she asks quietly. I swallow hard, trying to shove her off, but her grip is too strong, and besides, one sudden move and that gun could accidentally blast a hole through any one of our heads.

"Ali, no!" I scream, fear flooding through my veins. "Please, don't – don't do this – "

She straightens up and raises an eyebrow, digging her knee harder against my chest. I wince. I'm getting the feeling that she's dragging this out for as long as possible, almost like she's enjoying watching us beg. "Viola, do you really think you can – "

And then, suddenly, she disappears in a blur of movement. I gasp and sit up, rubbing my chest. Spencer has tackled Alison off of me and now they're on their feet, grappling with each other, Spencer wobbling unsteadily on her bad leg.

"Watch out!" I cry, rushing over to Aria, who grabs my hands. The two of them are fighting precariously close to the flames that are beginning to spread into the doorway.

"Spence!" Hanna grunts, tearing her eyes away from Ezra for just a moment.

Spencer shoves Ali by the shoulders, and once again, the handgun goes flying. Both Aria and I scramble for it, and she reaches it first, holding it shakily in her hands.

"Don't shoot!" I exclaim, grabbing her arm. "You could hit Spencer!"

"What am I supposed to do?" she replies, her voice high-pitched and thin, just as Alison twists out of Spencer's grip and grabs her by both arms.

The room goes horrifyingly quiet as she pushes her backward, inches away from the blazing fire. Spencer gasps, flinching as the flames lick at her back. "What do you think?" Ali breathes, her eyes wild. "What would be a better way to die? By gun, or by fire?"

"Ali," Spencer gasps, twisting her head to the side to glance at the fire, so close to her skin. Her eyes fill with tears, and I reach up, realizing that my own face is wet, too. There's nothing any of us can do. Even Aria, holding the gun, is frozen, her face white with shock. "Please."

"I was just going to shoot you, but I suppose this will do," Alison growls. Her face is inches from Spencer's. "You were never really my friend. I could see it in your eyes. You never trusted me."

"Yeah, and she was right," a dark voice hisses from behind me, and I whip around, watching with astonishment as Emily releases Ezra. She bounds across the room toward Spencer and Alison, her dark eyes furious. I gasp, leaping out of her way.

Alison's grip goes slack, her eyes widening at the sight of the rage on her former girlfriend's face. And despite everything we've been through at her hands over the past week, I can't help but feel taken aback, too. Half of me expected that a part of Emily would always love Ali, regardless of what she's done. But right now, her expression is as far from loving as you can get.

"Get away from her!" Emily cries, ripping Ali's hands off of Spencer's arms. Then, with no hesitation, she shoves the blonde straight back.

Ezra screams, breaking away from Mona and Hanna. " _No!_ " Even I take a step forward, my heart pounding so hard and the smoke so thick around me that I can barely breathe.

Alison stumbles and falls back, her arms flailing. Her feet fly out from beneath her, her long hair whips around her face, and her mouth forms a large, surprised "O." And in the next instant, she's gone, swallowed by the flames that are slowly overtaking us.

"Oh my god," Aria gasps, the hand not holding the gun flying to her mouth. Behind us, Mona has gone completely pale, and tears are streaming down Hanna's face. Spencer's trembling so hard that she has to lean against Emily for support.

"Alison!" Ezra screeches. He darts toward the doorway, but skids to a stop a few feet away from the fire. "Alison, no!" He whirls to face Emily, who looks dazed and barely present, like she can't quite believe what just happened. "I'll kill you," he thunders, his expression murderous. "I'll kill you with my bare hands!"

"Don't you dare," a small, trembling voice speaks from beside me, and Aria holds up the gun. "Don't touch her."

Something in Ezra's eyes shifts. "Aria. You wouldn't."

She barks out a laugh that sounds almost unhinged. " _I_ wouldn't? You're seriously saying that to me? After everything we just went through, I don't know who the hell you are, but you're not the Ezra Fitz I fell in love with." I peer at her curiously, and the darkness in her eyes tells me that she's not lying. She would shoot him right now and feel nothing – at least not immediately.

"I hate to break it to you all," Mona speaks up suddenly, her eyes on the fire, which has started to pour into the room, spreading up the blank walls, "but at this point, I don't think it really matters who shoots who."

"God," Spencer groans, and Emily pulls her away from the doorway. I leap backward until I hit the far wall. My head is spinning, and I grimace, rubbing my temples.

"I don't want to die," someone – Aria, maybe? – whimpers from somewhere to my left, but the smoke has grown so strong that I can barely see anything. My vision blurs, and the world begins to tilt around me. I can hear faint voices, unrecognizable voices, in my ear, and wonder if I'm having some sort of pre-death hallucination.

"I love you guys," Hanna whispers, clutching Emily's hand. We all fall silent, watching the flames engulf the room, speeding toward us. Even Ezra has grown quiet. I think it hits us all at once – this is really hit. Our final moments.

Suddenly, Spencer perks up. "Do you guys hear something?"

"Besides the fire?" I ask dubiously, my voice muffled beneath my hands, which are firmly pressed to my face.

"Spencer, how can you hear anything over these flames?" Hanna asks in exasperation.

But the taller girl is shaking her head. I have to squint to see her clearly. "No, no…it's not the fire, it sounds like…"

" _Hello? Is there anyone in here? Can anyone here me?_ "

I let out a scream, and the expressions on everyone else's faces tell me that I'm really not hallucinating. There really is someone nearby. "We're down here!" we all scream, pounding the wall behind us. "Help us!"

There's a loud scrape, and a grunt, and then, slowly, the large wooden structure blocking the exit slides out of sight. I stumble forward, waving away dark smoke until I catch sight of a short, squat police officer standing in the doorway, looked awed. "What the hell is – "

He doesn't get much farther than that before Ezra takes off, shoving past him and sprinting up the stairs. "No!" Hanna screams.

But there are more important issues to deal with. A splintering sound cracks above our heads, and I glance up just in time to see a large piece of plaster fall from the ceiling. The bunker's caving in. "Come on!" I cry, and the six of us run. The officer follows us up the steep stairs, and we push through a metal door.

I gasp in the fresh air, practically falling onto the soft ground in the center of what appears to be a clearing in the woods. The air is cold and wet, and I breathe it in greedily as I brush soot off of my arms. Just as I'm rising to my feet, my sister practically tackles me, sobbing. I start to cry as well, my entire body shaking with relief.

We're out.

We're alive.

"Wait," Spencer cries between hacking coughs, gazing around the clearing. "Where's Ezra?"

"He didn't get away, did he?" Hanna says.

"No, he didn't," a male voice answers, and a moment later Toby stalks out of a patch of trees beside us, pulling Ezra along with him.

About ten different emotions pass across Spencer's face in an instant. "Toby!"

"Mary came to find me," he explains, the gold badge on his uniform gleaming as he reaches down and detaches a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "She told me everything. We got here as soon as we could."

"Good timing," I mutter, looking away just in time to see the metal doors to the bunker collapse inward with a loud crash. A fire truck wails into the clearing, and several firefighters immediately leap into action.

Toby wraps the cuffs tightly around Ezra's wrists. "Toby," the older man pleads, struggling in his grasp. "Come on. Aren't we friends?"

"Friends?" Toby scoffs, raising his eyebrows. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." He locks the cuffs in place and gives them a rough pull. Then he shoves Ezra toward the squad car and looks back over at us. "Spencer, can I call you later? I kind of have something to take care of." He nods jerkily at Ezra.

"I'll explain everything," she assures him.

As the firemen work on extinguishing the flames, another officer walks over to where the six of us are huddled together, a safe distance away. "Are you girls alright?" We all mumble our assent, but he frowns. "You'll all need to be checked out anyway. Smoke inhalation can have serious effects. An ambulance is heading over now." He jerks is chin back toward the bunker. "Was anyone else down there?"

I open my mouth, uncertain of what to say, when Spencer jumps in. "Um, there was – there was one more. But she, um…she fell into the fire. We couldn't do anything to save her."

The officer runs a hand through his close-cropped hair, shaking his head with a frown. "There's no way anyone else could have survived that. I'm sorry, girls."

I shift uncomfortably, exchanging a glance with Hanna. "Sorry" isn't exactly what I'm feeling right now, but I sneak a look at Emily. The anger is gone from her face. She just looks blank.

The officer promises to take our statements once the fire has been contained and steps away to speak to one of the firefighters. Once we're alone, I look around at the five girls around me, covered with soot and bruises. Spencer's knee is swollen to twice its normal size. Aria has a small cut on her forehead. And we all look like we've been straight to hell and back.

I wind my arm through Mona's and laugh weakly, unable to stop myself. "Well, we've had some close calls, but…"

Hanna lets out a breath. "That was definitely the closest."

Aria glances around uncertainly. "Do we even want to…talk about what happened?"

Spencer shakes her head firmly, wrapping her arm around Emily's shoulders. "Not here. And not now. We can figure that all out tomorrow. Tonight, let's just…be glad that we're all okay."

"We're all okay," I repeat. The words feel foreign on my tongue. "And we're all together."

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I felt that it was fitting for Alison "it's immortality, my darlings" DiLaurentis to die, and Ezra "relationship with a student" Fitz to get hauled off to jail in the end.


	25. Chapter 25

Well holy crap guys. Here we are at the end. I feel like I just started writing this, and it's hard to believe that this is truly the last chapter. I want to take a moment to thank every single person who reviewed and enjoyed this story. Your comments have been so kind and inspiring. I'm especially glad that for some of you, this story was able to provide some satisfaction after the show's finale. That was my intention when writing it and it's wonderful to know that I've achieved it.

I don't know when you'll see a new story from me pop up, but I do have a few ideas in mind...head over to my profile and check out the poll if you'd like to vote for which story you'd prefer to see next. And just as a small request to all of my readers, whether you've reviewed every chapter, left me feedback sporadically, or never commented at all, I would absolutely love if you would take a moment to drop me a review and let me know what you think now that it's all over. Your words mean the world to me. This was quite an experience to write and I thank you all for joining me as I told Viola's story!

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Chapter 25

 _One Month Later_

Sometimes, if I don't let myself think about it, things feel almost normal again. Almost…but not quite.

Being in Rosewood got to be too hard for all of us. So we escaped to Paris. Just for a little over a week, but it's still nice to get a break. Spencer just got the brace off of her knee, and Aria's mild concussion, which she got from whacking her head off of one of the bunker's cement walls, has fully healed. And we figured that we all deserve some time off from thinking about it all before Ezra's upcoming trial begins.

"Six croissants," a waiter with a heavy accent announces on our last full day in France, setting a platter of steaming pastries down on the center of the table. "Enjoy, _mademoiselles._ "

" _Merci beaucoup, monsieur,"_ Mona replies with perfect pronunciation.

I smirk as the waiter hurries to the other side of the café, a small, charming place that we discovered just a few blocks from the Eiffel Tower. "Looks like all those years of teaching yourself to be fluent in French have finally paid off."

My sister smiles, adjusting the beret perched on her head, and Hanna laughs on her other side. Across the table, Aria chuckles weakly, and Emily just aimlessly stirs her coffee. I hold back a sigh. I was hoping that once we got out of Rosewood they'd both be able to let go a little, but it's clear that it's not going to be that easy.

I'm not sure why I thought it would be.

"Guys." Spencer rushes over, sliding into the empty chair between Aria and Emily and setting her phone on the table. "That was my dad."

Hanna leans forward eagerly. "What did he say?"

She takes a deep breath. "He and my mom are pressing full charges. They're hitting him with everything they've got."

Mona raises an eyebrow. "What are they hoping for?"

"Life," Spencer answers quietly. Her eyes are shining. "That's a long-shot. But the cops found all of his and Ali's research and equipment in a shack near the bunker. It should be enough to get him thirty years, at least."

My stomach swoops in a way that I haven't experienced in a long time. "Oh my god," I breathe, feeling a smile begin to tug at my lips. _Thirty years._ If everything goes as planned – and with the Hastings heading up the case, it undoubtedly will – Ezra will be behind bars until I'm in my _fifties._ Even imagining it makes me a little lightheaded.

But then my eyes go to Aria. She's staring down at the table, her face drained of color. Wincing, I exchange glances with the other girls, all of whom seem to have realized the same thing that I have: This news is a lot more complicated for her than it is for us.

Spencer reaches out, grasping her hand tightly. "I'm sorry, Aria. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

The smaller girl takes in a breath, not lifting her gaze. "No," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "No, it's okay. You guys are right to be happy about this." She pauses, running her finger through a groove in the table. "I wish I could get mad, too, but I just…feel so _stupid._ "

"Aria." Emily leans forward, looking past Spencer at her with a furrowed brow. "You shouldn't feel that way."

"You're not stupid," I agree, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. "You loved him."

"I should have known," she mutters, her face reddening. A tear slips out of the corner of her eye, and my heart lurches in sympathy. "I should have never looked back after I found out about the _first_ book. I can't believe I really thought he'd changed."

She takes in a breath to say more, but before she can go on, Mona cuts her off firmly. "Aria. You can't do that to yourself. Every time to say things like that, you're just protecting him more. You need to place the blame on him, not yourself."

I choke a little on the tea that I'm sipping. That may be the nicest thing I've ever heard my sister say…and she was actually right on the money. Spencer's eyes have grown wide. Aria blinks, looking caught off-guard herself, then offers a wobbly smile. "Thanks. You're probably right."

Hanna pops the last of her croissant into her mouth and stands abruptly. "Okay, I've decided. You need closure. We're doing what we talked about."

I know what the plan is – the six of us discussed this for over a week leading up to the trip – and nod, getting to my feet as well. I've been expecting this since the day we arrived and have been waiting for one of them to bring it up. But Aria remains seated, her face paling. "Han, I don't…I don't know if I'm ready for this."

Hanna sighs and walks around to the other side of the table, placing her hands on Aria's shoulders. "Come on, yes you _are._ You need to do this. We both do."

"We'll be with you," Emily promises. "Just like always."

I nod enthusiastically, and after a long moment Aria lets out a long breath and stands. "I'm not saying I'll go through with it," she warns, just as Hanna's about to let out a cheer. "But I'll try, okay?"

"There's a pond just a block from the Eiffel Tower," Mona says, examining a map on her phone. "It's right around the corner."

"Let's go now, before you lose the nerve," I add, and we head out the door.

Five minutes later, the six of us stand in a line on a narrow footbridge that stretches over a small, glimmering pond. The Eiffel Tower peeks out from above the trees just a short distance away. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, relishing in the fresh, warm air. It's hard to believe that just a month ago, I was inhaling smoke, instead.

Hanna steps forward, toward the bridge's railing. Her mouth is set in a thin, determined line. "Ready?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder and raising an eyebrow at Aria.

The dark-haired girl looks around at all of us, fiddling nervously with her hands. Spencer touches her arm. "Aria, it's okay if you need to – "

"No." Aria pulls away sharply. The hesitation on her face begins to fade. "I need to do this."

Hanna grins, pulling a Ziploc bag from her purse. She extracts two small objects. "Then I believe this belongs to you," she says lightly, and drops an engagement ring into Aria's palm, keeping the wedding band from Caleb in her own hand.

"I'm proud of you guys," I announce as Aria walks slowly over to join Hanna, several feet away from the rest of us.

Hanna shrugs, examining her old wedding ring carefully. "We thought about just locking them in a safe or something. But we figured this was more final."

"No going back," Aria murmurs, her eyes bright and hard. She turns to face Hanna. "On three?"

We all scream the numbers aloud, and when we reach "three," Hanna and Aria reel their arms back and chuck their rings straight into the water. As soon as I hear the tiny "clink," I rush to the railing and peer down. The two rings bob innocently on the surface for only a few moments before sinking to the bottom of the pond, disappearing from sight.

Aria and Hanna exchange smiles, and the rest of us whoop with joy. I wind my arm through Hanna's and give her a short squeeze, and Spencer engulfs Aria in a hug. "Congratulations, ladies," Mona says with a smile. "The rest of your lives can officially begin."

"Not until Caleb actually signs the divorce papers," Hanna reminds her as we begin walking toward the tower. I fall into step beside her. She glances back. "You have it easier than me. Imagine if there was a bunch of stuffy paperwork binding you to Fitz."

I wince, wondering if that was the most sensitive thing to say, but Aria doesn't even appear to be listening. She's bent over her phone, texting, with the faintest hint of a smile on her face.

Spencer's eyebrows shoot up as soon as she notices. "Anyone interesting?"

"What?" Aria jumps a little, raising her eyes from the phone. "Oh. No. It's no one."

Emily glances over her shoulder. Her eyebrows immediately furrow. " _Jason?_ "

Whoa. I exchange a surprised glance with my sister. This trip is getting juicy. "Yeah," she replies, her voice overly casual. "He's back in town to deal with…" She cuts her eyes guiltily to Emily. "Everything with Ali."

"Oh?" I laugh, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "So you guys are talking again?"

Spencer gives her a playfully stern look. "Remember, he's my brother."

"God," Aria groans, shoving her phone back in her pocket. "You guys, stop. It's not like that. Seriously." She laughs a little, shaking her head. "I don't…I don't think I'll be ready for anything like that for a long time. Not after…everything. We're just making plans to go get coffee."

Emily squeezes her shoulder. "I think it's great. You don't want to rush anything until you know you're really past Ezra." She speaks the words with such conviction and knowledge that I raise my head, alarmed.

"Em? Would you know something about this?"

Emily's face flushes. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear awkwardly. "Paige called me a few days before we left. She heard about what happened on the news. She just wanted to make sure I was okay."

Hanna lets out a little squeal. "I always liked her."

Emily rolls her eyes dubiously, and I can't help but laugh, so glad that even if they're not still fully healed from the emotional wounds Ali and Ezra inflicted on them, they at least have some people besides us in their lives to help them along the way. "I don't know if anything will happen. But if it does, we'll take things slow. Just like Toby and Spencer."

I smile, patting Spencer's arm. "I'm glad you guys are trying to make it work again. You're good for each other."

"We're just friends for now," she replies, speaking to me but shooting Hanna, who's grinning at her, a look. "He's still going through a lot. And I want to focus on getting through law school. But maybe eventually…" She trails off, smiling down at the sidewalk. Hanna lets out another joyful yelp.

"This is all very nice," Mona says suddenly, waving her hand. "But if you all haven't noticed, we've been standing in front of the Eiffel Tower for the past five minutes."

I startle, glancing to our right. Sure enough, the tall, impressive structure stands just yards away, towering over us. "Okay, okay," Aria relents, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Tired of hearing about all of our personal lives?"

"I keep telling you to text Mike!" Hanna yells over her shoulder, grabbing Spencer's arm and tugging her toward the entrance.

I loop my arm around my sister's shoulders and return her grin. Her eyes are shining, and I'm sure that mine must be, too. _Finally._ Finally, the acceptance, the trust, the _normalcy_ with these girls that we've been without for so long.

Twenty minutes later, all of us in various stages of catching our breath, we arrive at the second level of the tower. "Wow," I breathe, resting my elbows on the ledge and gazing out at the sky. "As long as you don't look down, it's pretty incredible."

"We're going all the way to the top, right?" Spencer asks immediately, and the rest of us groan.

"Not without my lungs collapsing," Hanna protests. "If we go any higher than this we're _definitely_ taking the elevator."

"I'm with Spencer," Mona chimes in. "If we've made it this far, we might as well go all the way."

"I'm in," Aria agrees. "All this exercise is actually pretty good therapy. And besides, I need to get a picture of the view from up there." She raises the camera – a new, modern one, not that old-fashioned clunker that Ezra gave her years ago – that's hanging around her neck.

"Let's stay on this deck for a while," I suggest, leaning against the railing. "I want to get a good look."

But it's only been a few minutes before Spencer speaks again, her gaze distant as she stares out at the clouds. "I wonder if Mary's ever stood right where we are. France was listed a few times on her passport."

Mona shoots her a sideways glance. "Have you talked to her?"

"A few times a week or so. She still thinks she needs to convince me that she really didn't want to hurt us."

I snort without meaning to. "I think she proved that when she called the cops on her accomplices."

"Yeah," Aria agrees, running her hands along the ledge that separates us from the long drop to the ground. "If anything we should be _thanking_ her."

"I know," Spencer replies, clearly exasperated. "But I think it'll take a while for her to realize that. She decided to keep staying at the Lost Woods, though, so I think there's hope."

I smile at her. Maybe Spencer will never see Mary as her mother – and maybe she shouldn't – but it would be nice if they could establish some sort of relationship. After all, this isn't the first time that Mary's put her neck on the line for Spencer and the others. Although I had my reservations about her at first, it's seeming more and more like she's not so bad.

"Em," Hanna says suddenly after another minute, nudging her. "What's wrong? You haven't said a word since we got up here."

Emily, who's been leaning against the railing and gazing down at the people far below us for the past ten minutes, blinks. She doesn't lift her head, but I catch sight of a tear slip down her cheek.

"Nothing," she murmurs, not meeting any of our eyes. "It's stupid."

"I'm sure it's not," I assure her, getting the feeling that I know what she's going to say. "Come on, you can tell us."

Emily takes in a shaky breath and finally pulls herself away from the railing. She smiles ruefully and shakes her head. Her eyes have taken on a faraway look, and she runs her hand lightly along the side of the structure. "It's just…whenever I thought about coming here for the first time…I always imagined that it would be with Ali."

The girls' faces fall. Even though I could never help but judge Emily's almost obsessive love for Alison, I still feel a pang in my chest at the heartbreak in her tone. She closes her eyes just as a few more tears roll down her face.

"Em," Hanna sighs, wrapping an arm around her tightly. "It's okay. We didn't even think about how hard this must be for you."

"All the memories I have with her," Emily whispers, her shoulders shaking with repressed sobs. Around us, a few people turn to look. I shoot them the nastiest glare I can muster. "Fantasizing about running off to Paris, planning the nursery and talking about raising our baby together…none of it was real. It was all just a game to her." A single choked cry escapes from her mouth.

"Oh my god, Em," Spencer gasps, rushing to her other side and hugging her fiercely. "You don't know that. I like to think that, deep down, she cared about you. About all of us."

"She was A, Spencer," Emily argues, but makes no effort to pull away. "She tried to _kill_ all of us." She takes a deep, wavering breath. "She was never really our friend."

Spencer, Hanna, and Aria all exchange glances, looking crushed. "Maybe not," Spencer relents at last, wiping a tear out of her own eye. "But we _are_ your friends. And we'll get you through this."

"We'll _all_ get through this," Aria agrees, stepping over to them and taking Emily's hand. "Together." The four of them huddle close to each other, forming a small circle.

I hang back, looking to Mona with a sheepish smile. I'm relieved to see her smiling back. Even after what we went through, we're still not completely on the inside of the group. But maybe that's okay. These four girls have been through more ups and downs together than anyone else I can imagine. It only makes sense that they would have a bond that's not exactly easy to break into.

At least not now. Maybe after a while, once A.D. and bunkers and threatening texts are just distant memories, my sister and myself will find ourselves fully immersed in their group. I have a feeling it'll happen even without us noticing.

After a moment, Emily sniffles and looks up, squeezing Aria's hand gratefully. Then she peers over the shorter girl's shoulder at the two of us and smiles. "I have an idea. Let's take a picture. All of us. I want to remember this day forever."

"I like that idea," Aria agrees, beginning to tug at the camera around her neck, but Hanna stops her with a sigh.

"Aria, if you try and hold that thing out, you'll drop it over the edge. Let me do it." I laugh as she pulls out her phone.

The six of us gather around her, crowding close together to fit into the shot. As Hanna angles the phone expertly, I reach over and squeeze my sister's hand, smiling broadly. Finally, it doesn't matter that she's spent time in a mental institution, that she was the original A, or that I once donned the black hoodie myself for a few months.

Finally, our lives can move forward, away from A. After Hanna snaps the picture, I take a look at it, peering over her shoulder at our happy faces, Emily's face still wet with tears, but her smile wide.

I don't want to lose these girls. We're all staying in Rosewood for now, mostly because none of us can bear trying to heal without the others by our side. But I have a feeling that this arrangement is going to be temporary. I can see the way Spencer's eyes sparkle whenever she talks about government or Washington. And judging by how Mona's spent the entire week gazing around at all of Paris' sights, marveling over just about everything, I wouldn't be surprised if her next trip here is more on the permanent side. Hanna still seems wistful every time she hears mention of New York.

And as for me, I can't say that there aren't a few job listings for social workers in Philadelphia in my search history.

For now, though, this is all that I need. I look around at my sister and our friends, watching them debate taking the stairs or the elevator to the top level, and realize that even though one chapter of our lives has come to an end, our story is just beginning.


End file.
